


You're Still The One

by roe87



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Body Dysphoria, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes-centric, Bucky is vanilla, Care Assistant Bucky, Caring as a Profession, Casual Sex, Cheating, Childhood Friends, Choking, Christmas, Demisexual Bucky, Demisexuality, Dorks in Love, Emotional Infidelity, Everyone's jealous until they get what they want, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Frottage, Grumpy Bucky Barnes, Grumpy Old Men, Howling Commandos as old men, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Infidelity, Insecure Bucky Barnes, Internalized Homophobia, Jealous Bucky Barnes, Jealous Steve Rogers, Jealousy, Jewish Bucky Barnes, Karaoke, M/M, Mild Kink, Mildly Dubious Consent, New Year's Fluff, New Years, Nostalgia, Nurse Bucky, Nurses & Nursing, Overstimulation, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Romance, Self-Esteem Issues, Sex, Shameless Smut, Slow Burn, Smut, Steve breaks up with someone else for Bucky, T'chucky - Freeform, Teacher Steve Rogers, Texting, Top T'Challa (Marvel), WinterPanther - Freeform, X-Men as old men, chubby bucky, chubby!bucky, clandestine romance, long haired bucky, mild D/s theme, this will have a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-09 15:33:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 75,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8897314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roe87/pseuds/roe87
Summary: Bucky didn't intentionally set out to steal someone else's man...
But, really, Steve had been his first.
 
Or, the tale of a heartfelt reunion as two grown boys realise that being adults and shit would be a whole lot better if they were together again.





	1. The Art of Caring

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: This started off as me complaining that I couldn't find any fics where Steve and Bucky have an affair, so I ended up writing my own. If you don't like infidelity themes, don't read it! :p
> 
> Title from the song by Shania Twain.
> 
> Each chapter has some of [Bucky's Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLFqUqT-y0xQ3C2qbGbVilOqUCTnJc-b1k), which is mostly 90s classics. 
> 
> There are notes containing SPOILERS, for any readers who prefer to not be surprised, so please see chapter End Notes for full content warnings on each chapter.
> 
> And, if you want to know which characters show up where, please see the work's END NOTES for those spoilers. :)
> 
> ~ ~ ~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reality TV, sponge baths for old men, surprise invitations, casual hook ups, jeans that don't fit, and making dubious deals, starring Bucky Barnes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please see End Notes for chapter's full content warning, if you want to.
> 
> ~

 

_If you find it in your heart to care for somebody else, you will have succeeded_

~ Maya Angelou

 

 

 

 

Bucky's Playlist

_Break My Stride_ – Blue Lagoon

 _Here Comes The Hotstepper_ – Ini Kamoze

 _Waterfalls –_ TLC

 _This Is How We Do It –_ Montell Jordan

 _Love Don't Cost A Thing_ – Jennifer Lopez

 _You're Still the One_ – Shania Twain

 

 

 

 

“The fuck are you watching?” Clint demanded, shedding his coat, wallet, and random candy wrappers as he flopped down on the couch next to Bucky.

“It's actually pretty funny,” Bucky said defensively. Clint was too damn quiet when he came in the door sometimes. Bucky suspected he did it on purpose; all stealthy as he crept up on Bucky getting his reality TV fix, then making him jump out of his skin when Clint was right behind him.

“More reality garbage,” Clint declared, putting his booted feet up on the coffee table.

Bucky had his feet up too, but he was in his comfy lounge-wear and warm socks. “Give it a chance,” Bucky said. “You'll see.” When cornered, go on the defensive. “Better than the crap you watch.”

Clint snorted loudly, and reached over to grab a handful of chips from the bowl in Bucky's lap. “Gimme _Ice Road Truckers_ any day of the week.”

Bucky tried to ignore him, hoping Clint would settle down enough to let him finish what he was watching. Clint reeked of alcohol, so with any luck he'd even nod off.

“What show is it, then?” Clint gazed at the TV. “Are they all English, or are my hearing aids picking up the wrong channel?”

“It's called _First Dates_ ,” Bucky said, wishing Clint would shut up. He wanted to hear what the young female scientist was saying to her date, who was a complete moron.

“So what happens?” Clint piped up.

Bucky rolled his eyes, and leaned over to the laptop to pause the stream. “A bunch of random people get set up on blind dates and it's filmed in this restaurant in London. The maître d' is this French dude who wrote a book about dating, and it's a real funny show.”

“Huh.” Clint made a face.

“Do you want to watch from the start?” Bucky offered graciously.

Or, as graciously as he could, seeing as this was Clint's TV, Clint's broadband and laptop, and Clint's apartment that Bucky stayed in for minimal rent.

“How long is it?” Clint asked.

“Thirty minutes total.”

Clint looked dubious, but he agreed.

They watched the episode of _First Dates_ together, laughed at the funny bits, and got all choked up at the sad bits when some of the dates shared personal stories in the one on one interviews. Clint and Bucky argued over which dates were best suited and who would work out in the long run.

It was the most human interaction Bucky'd had all day on his day off. If he and Clint were a couple, Bucky would scoot closer and press himself to Clint's side, hope for a strong arm to drop over his shoulders and hold him.

But they weren't a couple, they were just room-mates. Close friends, especially now Bucky was taking advantage of Clint's generosity with his tiny, somewhat gross bachelor pad, post divorce. Bucky really owed Clint for letting him stay. Bucky was pretty broke. It was just... sometimes, having another guy around in such a domestic set up made Bucky ache for a partner. He'd been single a while, unlike Clint who was only a few months fresh from divorce, and relieved about it.

“You should apply,” Clint said, as the credits rolled.

Bucky tensed. He hated talking about his shit-show of a personal life. “It's filmed in London, Clint,” he pointed out. And didn't mention that _First Dates Abroad_ had been up next. He simply cleared his throat and casually changed the channel. Hopefully some _Walker, Texas Ranger_ would distract Clint.

No such luck...

“You'd have to have your shit together before you went on,” Clint rambled, opening a can of beer.

He offered one to Bucky, but Bucky declined. He had an early start tomorrow, as usual. “Went on what?” Bucky prickled defensively. “I go on dates.”

Well, sort of.

“On that show.” Clint chugged some beer, belched. “With the cameras and the pre-date interview and shit. Don't talk about your ex, or the one that got away.”

Bucky froze.

 _Shit_. He regretted ever speaking to Clint when he was drunk. Apparently, the man had a remarkable memory.

“Everyone goes on about their ex's,” Bucky shot back.

“Not on a first date,” Clint said, drinking more beer and wiping a dribble off his chin. “At least wait until date number two.”

Bucky huffed a laugh. “Wise words, old man.”

Clint thumped him with a cushion.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Bucky woke slowly, still floundering in a dream. It took a few moments to realise where he was; awake, and in his narrow single bed. He glanced at his phone, feeling equal parts relieved and annoyed he'd woken up before the alarm. In the few minutes spare, Bucky closed his eyes again and relived that last segment of the dream. Strong arms held him in place against a muscled chest as Bucky straddled a man's lap, and bounced up and down on a rock hard cock.

And oh, weren't dream-cocks just perfect; all the hardness and sensation, but none of the discomfort or pain. Bucky knew it was Brock in the dream, as the next part was typical enough; Brock was pulling away from him and getting dressed, not touching him. They were talking. Or, Bucky was trying to get him to talk, and Brock was mostly ignoring him.

They were in a bedroom; it looked like their old one, in the apartment they'd shared. When Brock vanished, Bucky searched through every room in the house for him, searching, searching. He didn't find Brock in the dream.

Jarringly, some of the residents from Bucky's care job were there, demanding attention as always.

Why couldn't they all get lost and let Bucky have dream sex in peace?

In his dream, Bucky made a conscious decision to forget about Brock, and think of Steve instead. He wasn't sure if this was lucid dreaming or not, but as soon as he'd thought _Steve_ , he heard a voice, deep and familiar, and dream-Bucky turned to it. He saw Steve's happy smile, the golden blond of his floppy bangs, and Bucky went to him. He wanted to wrap his arms around those bony shoulders and tell him, _I miss you._

The alarm went off again, and Bucky jerked awake anxiously. He really needed to change the alarm tone. Turning it off, he rubbed his face.

Time to go to work.

 

Soon as he was washed and dressed –soft black clothes, comfy sneakers– Bucky pulled his headphones on and powered up his old iPod. In a bid to be an actual functioning human being, Bucky had playlists to get him through the monotonous days. He selected one of his _Rise and shine_ playlists, and slipped the iPod into his pocket. _Break My Stride_ , the Blue Lagoon cover from the nineties, came on first, and Bucky turned the volume up.

In the kitchen, he made himself a thermos full of hot coffee, grabbed his meagre, pre-packed lunch from the refrigerator, and pulled on his thick coat, gloves, and woolly hat.

Clint was snoring away in his bedroom, the door open. Bucky peeped in to check he was okay, then he had to haul ass out the door.

It was far too dark and cold to be up so early, but at least he missed the worst of the commuter rush. He stepped out into the cold as Ini Kamoze played in his ears.

Bucky had recently overhauled his download collection, and now listened to a lot of songs from his childhood and teen years, because they were mostly happy memories, and the music was just better. If Bucky wanted to be old and cranky about that, he figured no one else had to listen to his playlists.

Which was just as well; no one needed to know that Bucky listened to J-Lo on a regular basis.

Bucky hummed along as he exited the train at his stop, and walked down the block sipping his coffee. “My love don't cost a thing,” he murmured along to the song, looking up as the nursing home came into view.

Ready for another day of wiping other people's butts, he was not.

 

~ ~ ~

 

In the staffroom, Bucky squeezed into his blue tunic and made another mental note to request a larger size. He hadn't been to the gym in over a year, and his stomach area was getting paunchy.

His butt must be too, or maybe his thighs, because his work trousers were snug lately. At least Bucky could sort of ignore his butt, being behind him. His rounded belly and the roll of firm flesh over his waistband? Not so much.

Bucky packed away his belongings and put his bag and coat in a locker. He slipped his phone in his pocket, on silent, and tied his long hair back into as neat a bun as he could manage.

Then he snapped on some white plastic gloves, and went into the supply room to set up.

Scott and Luis turned to glance at him as Bucky entered, offered quiet hellos, before going back to whatever discussion they were having. Those two usually looked shifty over something, Bucky thought.

He began setting up his own trolley, loading it with supplies and covering the top with a disposable mat. He did the set up alone, and when he went to check the rota back in the staffroom, he knew his double-up for the morning would be running late.

In typical Peter Quill style, Bucky's colleague burst through the door at the last possible minute, still buttoning his tunic with his headphones dangling around his neck.

“Hey, guys!” he said cheerily.

Peter may have been a slacker but at least he was chatty in the mornings. That meant Bucky didn't have to be.

Scott and Luis wheeled their trolley out, ready to start their round. Bucky waited on Peter, reminded him to take his headphones off, and then they set off too.

“Good day off, bro?” Peter asked, to which Bucky mumbled a neutral reply. Peter started talking about the woman he was currently obsessed with, but so far hadn't asked out or even spoken to much.

Peter was just as pathetic as Bucky in a lot of ways, but he had a much cheerier disposition.

Their first stop was Charles Xavier, or the Professor, as he was known. One of the care home's more affable residents, he'd been wheelchair-bound for years, and now his arms weren't as strong he needed help getting in and out of his chair at all times.

Bucky knocked on the door, said, “Morning, Professor,” and opened it. All the resident's bedrooms on the ground floor were much the same; a hospital bed with a commode next to it, a night-stand, a rack of clothes, and a small en suite.

Bucky worked with male residents usually, and the female staff members worked upstairs with the female residents. Bucky thought some of the old guys were pretty funny at times, but some of them could be pretty grouchy too.

The Professor hadn't heard them yet, but when Bucky and Peter wheeled their trolley in, and Bucky opened the blinds, the elderly man shifted in bed and smiled at them. “Good morning!” he greeted, polite as always.

“Hey, Professor,” Peter said, always happy to talk. “What's first today? You want a wash?”

“Actually, I think I need the commode,” he replied.

“Okay. You think you can make it to the bathroom one?” Peter asked. The bedside commode was for night-time emergencies.

“Yes, that will do nicely,” the older man chuckled.

“Good call.”

Bucky took the small bed-pan as Peter pulled back the bedsheets. They used the hoist over the bed to help the Professor up, and into his wheelchair. Bucky always did a visual sweep of the vacated bed –which was thankfully clean– and the client's backside. A lot of the time the elderly residents didn't know if they'd made some mess or not during the night. This morning they were in luck, all was clear.

Professor Xavier wore a white night-shirt, and once he was safely in the chair, Peter wheeled him to the bathroom.

The bathrooms were all the same; just a small sink and cabinet, a reinforced toilet with a secure seat and handlebars, and a tiled area with a fold down chair for the walk in shower.

Once they'd transferred the Professor to the toilet, Bucky and Peter stepped out of the bathroom. If the residents could manage anything on their own, it was always a blessing.

Bucky started turning down the bed while Peter took his time choosing clothes from the rack. Once the Professor's ablutions were done, Bucky and Peter tied on their plastic aprons and assisted their resident with clean up, and then over to the fold down seat for a wash. Bucky thought it was always good timing for residents to have done any number two's before their wash. Professor Xavier was pretty good at that.

They turned on the gentle shower, and began the regular morning sponge down. Peter held the spray and slacked off, as usual, but he did all the chat, which Bucky hated in the mornings. So he sponged the Professor clean and listened to them chat about some nature program or other.

At least the Professor always had something insightful to say. Bucky would've liked to have heard him give a lecture when he was younger.

After the wash, they dried him off and got him into underwear and a vest. At the sink, they did a face wash and shave. Bucky was awesome with razors, many of the residents had said so. Then it was back into the bedroom to get him dressed, sit him in his wheelchair with a blanket by the window to await the breakfast cart.

Bucky and Peter said goodbye for now, and wheeled their trolley to the next room.

“Which conspiracy theory will it be today?” Peter muttered, as Bucky knocked on Mr. Lehnsherr's door. Bucky didn't reply. Yeah, Lehnsherr often had a grumbling rant or two during the course of the day, but he was another interesting character. The fact that he was real pally with the Professor always made Bucky smile.

Entering the room, they said good morning as Peter opened the blinds and Bucky whisked the bedpan away. Mr. Lehnsherr could walk, but he used a frame.

He grumbled as he woke, his long white hair all fluffed up like a cloud. Like his pal the Professor, he had a British accent, but Bucky had discovered recently that Mr. Lehnsherr was German-Jewish.

He noticed Bucky near him and mumbled, “Ah, you're back, are you.”

“I'm back,” Bucky agreed, helping him to sit up, and put his hearing aids in.

“Didn't go far,” Mr. Lehnsherr muttered, all but ignoring Peter.

“I only had one day off, Mr. Lehnsherr,” Bucky said, quietly amused.

Mr. Lehnsherr knew Bucky was Jewish too.

Once he had his frame to hand, the older man walked himself to the bathroom at a slow gait. He hadn't said what he wanted to do, but when he got there he conceded to have a wash, with only minimal grumbling.

Mr. Lehnsherr wasn't much of a morning person either.

“What's on the agenda for today?” Peter asked him blithely, holding the water spray overhead.

Mr. Lehnsherr shot a look to Bucky, as if asking what was this idiot talking about. Bucky couldn't help a smirk, and he set about sponging the older man down. “They're playing card games at lunch,” Bucky offered, because he liked Mr. Lehnsherr even if he was a grouch.

Mr. Lehnsherr muttered a response which mostly sounded like a no.

“Checkers with the Professor again?” Peter suggested.

“Chess,” Mr. Lehnsherr corrected.

“That too,” Peter said, not really paying attention.

They finished the wash, and took him over to the sink next. Each wake up call was supposed to be a maximum of thirty minutes, especially on double-up's. There were still a lot of residents to get through.

When they'd finished with Mr. Lehnsherr, Bucky and Peter wheeled their trolley to the next resident. Anyone who had the most difficulty moving on their own was rota'd on first, as they couldn't get up by themselves.

Some of the residents who could move about, with frames or sticks, could either wait in bed for the wake up call, or start by themselves.

Or, if they were Logan Howlett, they'd remain cocooned in bed and refuse to get up at all.

Bucky didn't blame the guy, it was far too early to be up. Logan –he didn't like being called Mr. Howlett– used a walking frame, and could at least get himself to his own en suite most days. He was just cranky, that was all.

Peter tried to cajole the old man out of bed, but that only made Logan rumble, “Fuck off, and let me sleep.”

Bucky motioned for Peter to leave him be; they couldn't force a resident to do anything, only prompt them.

“We'll swing by later if you change your mind!” Peter singsonged, unfazed.

They left the room again. Bucky knew Logan had trouble sleeping, and sometimes went off on sleep-walks. If Bucky was on a night-shift, it wasn't unusual to see a confused resident or two shambling about in their night clothes. Some did it more than others.

 

When the first round was complete, they took their trolley back to the supply room, dropping off anything to be sterilised in the utility area. Now they'd done the double-up's, it was time to split up and do the single rounds. Then hopefully time for a quick break before the lunch prep started.

Bucky headed off to his next resident, walking down the quiet halls. He didn't need a trolley now, just his plastic apron and a few spare pairs of gloves tucked into his pockets.

He really needed more coffee. And some sleep.

Bucky knocked on a door, saying good morning as he entered. He was greeted by the sight of a naked backside, covered in poop, as the resident shuffled across his room in a state of undress.

Bucky groaned inwardly. “You all right there?” he asked, quickly snapping on a pair of gloves and going to help the resident.

Mr. Zola hadn't been at the home long, and Bucky knew he suffered from memory problems, and also wandering around without clothes problems. Kind of reminded Bucky of his younger family members when they'd have rather run round without diapers on. Old folks were a lot like giant toddlers in lots of ways.

Bucky steered Mr. Zola to the bathroom and basically hosed the diminutive man down. Then he helped him get dressed and into a seat in front of a small TV.

At least he was easy going, Bucky thought as he left.

He passed Luis in the hallway, walking the other way, and nodded in greeting. Bucky's next stop was Mr. Falsworth, another resident Bucky was fond of, but due to the rota hadn't done a wake up call for him in a few days.

“Morning, Monty,” Bucky said as he knocked and entered the room.

Monty was already up and in his dressing-gown, sitting in an easy chair. He broke into a grin. “Well, if I'd known I was getting you, I'd have stayed in bed.”

Bucky smiled. Monty was good for chit chat, and probably the gayest resident on the floor.

“Another day, perhaps,” Bucky replied, starting to turn down Monty's bed. He did a subtle check for cleanliness too. “You been to the bathroom already?”

“Yes, done that. Could use a wash, though, my boy.”

“No problem.” Bucky held the walking frame steady as Monty struggled to get up.

Some of the residents were good on their feet, it was just the getting up and down parts they struggled with. Bucky laid a steadying hand on his shoulder, giving a gentle push when he needed it. Once he was up, Monty whizzed past on his frame, chatting away.

Bucky grinned in amusement. At least he got to see Monty later in the morning, so he was slightly less cranky himself. Bucky still wanted more coffee though.

He helped Monty undress, putting his clothes aside, and got him onto the fold down seat. Monty was being his usual flirty self. “It's all a ruse to see me naked,” he teased, as Bucky turned the water on. “I've got a new sponge,” he added, when Bucky picked up the regular soft sponge.

“A new one?” Bucky looked around, and saw one of those squishy washing puff things that his tired mind couldn't grasp the name of. “You want this one today?” He picked up the puff, and at Monty's direction added shower gel to it.

“Feels a lot nicer on the skin,” Monty said. He was another Brit, and Bucky knew he'd been in the army because Monty always sat with the home's other vets when he had the chance.

“Right,” Bucky said, starting the wash.

It had taken some getting used to, seeing so much naked flesh every day, and touching people in order to clean and assist them, but Bucky had learned to use more of a clinical eye than anything else. He was always checking for bed-sores, broken skin, or changes in their skin. Sitting on their butts all day could create tender patches.

Bucky washed Monty down in his usual professional manner. The standard was that care assistants would wash butts, because most residents had difficulty reaching the back, and then the residents would wash their own junk at the front. Bucky got to the front, and offered the puff to Monty to wash himself.

“Sure you can't do it for me?” Monty said with a sly smile.

He was a menace. “C'mon, man,” Bucky urged, fighting back a grin. “You'll get us both into trouble.”

“If I were younger, lad,” Monty said, but he took the sponge. He was harmless, really.

Bucky did find it jarring to be flirted with when the other person was so _naked_ , while he was in a position of trust. The job had so many criss-crossing lines of professionalism and being over-familiar, it could feel muddled.

And, Monty did have a big cock. Even flaccid, or half hard like it was some mornings, Bucky couldn't help but notice.

He saw a lot of old dude's cocks these days.

“Got any saucy gossip for me, James?”

“Um... I don't think so.”

“None?” Monty scoffed, busy washing his junk, as Bucky held the shower spray for him. “No hot dates?”

“Does a hot dream count?” Bucky said. He took the offered sponge back, and rinsed Monty clean of soap suds.

“Oh, yes, dreams definitely count!” Monty wriggled in his seat with delight. “Do tell!”

“Ah, well...” Bucky's face heated a little. He should've kept quiet. “It was more just a flashback to an ex, I guess.”

“The good sort of flashback, I hope?”

“Yeah, it was one of the better parts,” Bucky admitted.

Monty chuckled. “Nothing like a good dream.”

“Yeah.”

Shower finished, he dried Monty and helped him into underwear and a vest. Bucky felt more at ease when they had underwear on. Next it was onto the sink and the stool, so Monty could perch while Bucky gave him a gentle shave. Monty's skin was very thin, he often had skin troubles. Bucky had to be really careful with the razor.

“Make me look my best,” Monty said, and when it was done he added, “You give the best shave here, old boy.”

“I aim to please.”

Monty chuckled again, lower this time. “Any dates on the horizon?”

“Um... maybe?”

Bucky had shown Tinder to Monty once, on the proviso he never told anyone else at the home. Monty had been fascinated, and told Bucky about all the ways he'd looked for dates back in his day. According to Monty, checking out other men's shoes and neck-ties had been sure giveaways.

“Have someone lined up, eh?”

Despite having seen the app, Monty didn't get that dating or even hooking up via apps wasn't always that easy. At least, not for Bucky anyway.

“Hard to find my type, I guess.”

Monty tutted. “You should be fighting them off, James,” he said in that blunt way old people had. “Handsome chap like you.”

Bucky ducked his head and laughed.

They re-entered the bedroom and Bucky directed Monty to sit on the bed while he picked out some clean clothes.

“What sort of man are you after?” Monty asked.

Bucky considered, as he shook out a pair of slacks. “Just... someone nice, I guess. Someone who'd rather stay in, instead of going out partying all the time.”

“You're a romantic,” Monty mused, letting Bucky dress him. “If I were twenty years younger, I'd be on one knee and wooing your socks off. Mark my words.”

Bucky grinned as he helped Monty into a shirt, and buttoned it up. “Just twenty years, huh?”

Monty frowned, thoughtful. “How old are you again?”

“Nearly thirty-five.”

“Oh, yes, that's fine,” Monty declared. “I was still rather dashing in my seventies, you know.”

“I do know, you showed me the photos.”

“Did I?”

Bucky nodded. “Yup.”

“Did I show you any rude ones?”

“Just you in your skivvies,” Bucky told him.

“Ah, well. You've seen it all now anyway,” Monty said. “Slip me some Viagra, and we're good to go.”

Bucky helped him to sit in the easy chair. “I don't think you need any, pal.” He did a quick tidy up, putting the old pyjamas in the laundry hamper. “Right, breakfast cart on its way, and I'll see you at lunch.”

“Can't wait, dear boy.”

“See ya.”

Bucky left Monty in his room, and headed for his next call.

Leaving the residents alone in their rooms was the hardest part of the job sometimes. The ones who wanted company never seemed to get enough, even though there was the option to socialise in the afternoon. They all wanted to talk to the younger carers, not other old folks.

 

Bucky flew through the rest of his round after Monty, as the residents left till last were usually desperate to get up and start their day. It may have been a reasonably expensive care home, but they were often short staffed. No one wanted to do the dirty work for the pay offered.

With a few minutes to spare, Bucky headed to the break room for a much needed caffeine fix. Peter, Scott and Luis were there.

“Hey.” Peter raised his mug at Bucky. “I'd like to propose a toast! To the residents who can wipe themselves.”

Luis nodded solemnly in agreement. “Yeah. No doubt, no doubt,” he muttered.

Scott was staring into space with a blank look. Bucky got on with pouring some coffee. He also ate half his lunch because he was always starving by eleven.

“Who's gonna go poke Logan?” Peter asked.

“Shit,” Bucky muttered. He'd almost forgotten. “I'll give it a go, if you start the lunch prep.”

Peter grinned. “Works for me.”

When his ten minutes were up, Bucky headed back to Logan's room.

Aside from any resident who was bed-ridden, Logan was the only one not out of bed on the whole floor. They'd tried putting him on a later morning call before, but then he'd get up on his own and wander off.

Couldn't win, Bucky thought.

He knocked on the door and let himself in. “Hi, Logan. It's James.”

There was still a body shaped lump under the bedclothes, so at least he was there. “You ready to get up now?”

An indistinct grumble came in reply.

Bucky went over to the window, opened the blinds, and carefully approached the bed. Logan had a temper; he was a vet too, and often had bouts of aggression where he didn't seem to know where he was. There was always a danger of some of the residents lashing out at times, so caution was needed.

“You can stay in bed if you want, Logan, but if you do, you'll probably get a visit from the supes and the doc. So it's either me, or them.”

Bucky knew Logan hated the care home supervisors and doctors. He held his breath as he waited, and when Logan grumbled again it was less angry. The older man flipped back his covers to reveal a very hairy face, and a dark scowl directed at the world.

“You wanna wash?” Bucky asked, trying to appear as neutral as possible. “I can give you a shave?”

“No,” Logan grouched, shifting to get up. Bucky stood to the side and let Logan do as much as possible, only giving him a gentle push up when he really needed it.

Logan was dead set on ignoring his walking frame most days, and Bucky pulled the frame in quick. “Here we go,” he said, like he didn't know the old man was trying to dodge the walking aid.

“I don't need it,” he gruffed out, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Humor me,” Bucky told him. Anything else was always met with a comeback, and thankfully today Logan was a little more cooperative. He placed his hands on the frame, and Bucky was relieved.

“Bathroom?” he asked.

“I've been,” Logan snapped.

“You've been,” Bucky repeated, hoping the old man was telling the truth. “Wash then?”

“No.”

“You sure about that, pal?”

Bucky knew they couldn't help it, but old folks really needed regular washing. Especially when they were as hairy as Logan.

“Don't need a wash,” Logan insisted.

Bucky had to admit defeat. He'd have to make a note in the log book; hopefully Logan would cheer up enough for a wash tomorrow.

Yeah, and pigs would fly, Bucky thought. Well, at least he was out of bed. That was half the battle conquered.

Bucky changed Logan out of his bedclothes, and noticed that Logan's butt cheeks looked very pink, indicating sore skin. “Want some cream on there?” Bucky asked, already grabbing the double base gel from the counter. “Looks a bit sore.”

Logan didn't object, which meant he had to be in a fair amount of discomfort. Probably the reason he'd wanted to stay laying down, Bucky thought. He rubbed cream on Logan's butt, trying not to focus on the extraordinary amount of body hair Logan had. His back was the hairiest Bucky had ever seen with his own eyes.

Cream applied, Bucky removed his plastic gloves and balled them up. Hopefully the rest would be non messy. He dressed Logan with minimal fuss, and like the contrary SOB he was, Logan ignored the breakfast that'd been left on a tray for him, and began shuffling off on his walker out into the hall.

Here we go, Bucky thought, walking along with him.

Luckily Logan headed for the dining room. Probably anxious to get his favourite seat by the large windows. Bucky escorted him in, where Luis and Peter were already on duty with the dining room staff. A lot of residents needed wheeling or escorting in, so it was lots of back and forth for an hour or so to get everyone into one place.

Logan barged through the dining room to his preferred spot, right past two other residents who were already sat down with their lunch and a game of cards.

The man with the bushy moustache, Tim Dugan, asked Logan if he wanted to play. When Logan only snorted in reply, Dugan looked at Bucky and said, “He's a sore loser! Beat him hands down yesterday.” He shared a loud laugh with his companion, Gabe Jones. They were vets too.

Logan stopped, and moved his walker about slowly in order to glare at Dugan. “It wasn't yesterday, bub. Yer losing your memory.”

“Well, whenever it was,” Dugan said, unfazed, “I beat you like a drum!” He laughed louder, and Logan clearly decided he was done with social interaction for the day, shuffling off again on his walker.

“Play nice, fellas,” Bucky said as he followed Logan, but he was smiling.

Sometimes, Bucky wondered what kind of old man he'd turn out to be. Would he be jolly, like Dugan, or even Monty? Or would he be more like Logan and Mr. Lehnsherr, grumpy and introverted?

He was well on his way to grumpy, if he were being honest with himself. That's why he had patience for residents like Logan, grouchy and on their own. He knew that could easily be him one day.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Bucky got in and shed his outer layers, grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and collapsed into the couch. He'd done eight earlies in a row, and tomorrow he was on a late, which meant a lie in, thankfully.

The TV was on, and Bucky leant forward to grab the laptop from the coffee table to see what Clint had been streaming. “You watching this?” Bucky called out. Looked like a home improvement show.

“Nah,” Clint replied, from somewhere in his bedroom.

Bucky started looking through channels for something to watch. Nothing too engaging right now. He needed to eat, and shower before he got too comfortable.

Clint walked out, wearing smart jeans and a shirt, his leather jacket, nice boots, and a shit eating grin.

“Oh, yeah?” Bucky assessed him. “Special occasion?”

“Yeah.” Clint chuckled. “Don't wait up. See you on the flip side.”

“Bye.” Bucky watched him clomp out of the apartment and shut the door.

It was only a little after seven. Looked like Bucky had the whole evening to himself. He could watch _First Dates_ , he thought. Take a long shower, order pizza too.

Bucky picked up his phone to check his messages. He was on a few dating apps and lost track of which notifications came from where. Tinder, Grindr, OKCupid, Meetup, and others. Cast the net wide, he'd thought. Seemed his only choices were endless and fruitless text conversations via dating apps, or straightforward hook ups via Grindr.

Usually Bucky was more inclined toward hook ups, because he didn't have the energy to date anyone new. He was always tired and grouchy, and just wanted someone to have sex and watch TV with. The last thing he felt like doing was going to bars or restaurants and pretend to be thrilled about it.

And besides, all his good jeans were too tight on him now, and he couldn't be bothered to buy new clothes. He couldn't go anywhere nice in his sweats, so he was stuck.

As he was checking his phone, a notification from Facebook popped up. Probably yet another 'your friends are going to this event' notice. Bucky tapped the notification, and it opened up an event page.

 _Bachelor party_ , he read, a sinking feeling in his stomach. _Steve Rogers is getting married, so come celebrate his last moments of freedom!_

Wow. Really? Everyone was getting married now, Bucky thought. Being mid-thirties sucked.

Bucky didn't recognise who the invite was from, but that wasn't unusual. He had hundreds and hundreds of Facebook friends because he was very single, and generally added anyone as a friend who seemed alright. If they turned out to be a jerk, Bucky just unfriended them, but more often than not, a lot contacts just sat there in anonymity, rarely engaging.

Like this Sam Wilson. Bucky thought he'd seen the name pop up on Natasha's feed at times, but he couldn't really remember. The last thing Bucky wanted was to show up at a party when the host hadn't actually invited him.

Either Steve wasn't on Facebook, or he had blocked Bucky, because no search ever brought him up.

And Bucky had searched.

He mulled it over for a few moments, then shot Sam Wilson a quick message:

_Hey, you sent me an invite to a bachelor party, was that a mistake?_

Then Bucky went and nosed around Sam's profile. Sam was hot, fit, and in a relationship with someone called Riley.

Bucky couldn't see any immediate photos, but he presumed Riley was a woman. Before he could nose more, a new message appeared from Sam: _Yeah, that's right. You coming?_

Bucky frowned. Weird, he thought. He wrote back: _But I haven't seen Steve Rogers for ages. Have you got the right guy? Why didn't he ask me himself?_

Bucky waited as Sam typed. When he saw the reply, he laughed.

 _Because Steve is a pain in my ass and doesn't have a Fb_ , Sam wrote.

 _Yeah, why is that?_ Bucky asked.

 _Beats me_ , Sam wrote back. _He's staging a one man protest against social media companies or something._

Bucky snorted a laugh. Yeah, that sounded like Steve alright.

 _And he wants me at his bachelor party?_ Bucky wrote to Sam. _I didn't even know he was getting married._

Sam took a longer time replying to that. After long moments of the typing ellipses popping up, in the end replied, _Yeah._

Bucky didn't understand.

Sam began typing again, and a new message explained, _Steve has less control over the engagement stuff, but he gave me a list for his bachelor party and that's all him. I think he'd really like it if you'd come._

Weird, Bucky thought.

Maybe the wedding would be a small, close knit ceremony. It really made him sad that he wasn't party of Steve's close friends any more. Up until college, they'd been inseparable.

 _I'll check my rota_ , he wrote back.

That was vague enough to buy him some time.

Sam didn't let him off easy. _If you want to bring a plus one_ , Sam wrote _, that's cool. As long as it's not a woman. This is Steve's night off!_ Several laughing emojis followed.

Bucky replied, _Sure, thanks_ , and wondered if Steve had told all his friends that Bucky liked guys. Steve wouldn't have mentioned that they used to...?

No, he wouldn't have told his straight friends, surely? Secret boyfriends from the past didn't fit into the neatly packaged, hetero-norm lifestyle, Bucky thought. No way Steve had told anyone. So if Bucky went along to the thing, he'd have to play it pretty straight. Definitely no drinking, then; he got too flirty when he drank.

 _I'll let you know_ , he told Sam, then set his phone aside. With a sigh, Bucky got up and took a shower. He shampooed his hair, squeezing the last blobs of conditioner out of the nearly empty bottle, making a mental note to buy more tomorrow. He dried off and changed into comfy clothes, then sat back on the couch and checked his bank balance on his phone.

Okay, no ordering pizza tonight, he was broke. Instead, Bucky took a bland frozen pizza from the freezer instead. As he ate his tasteless pizza in front of the TV, he thought his life was actually pretty pathetic.

So he sent a few texts out to regular and past hookups to see who would bite.

Hopefully someone good because, damn, Bucky needed something right now. In the meanwhile, Bucky cued up _Spy_ , because it was cute and made him laugh. And he did sorta feel like the heroine as she started out; alone, forgotten, and taken for granted by everyone else. He wished his job was more exciting.

Before he got too miserable, Bucky received messages. One or two potentials, he considered. He'd hold out a bit longer.

Thirty minutes later, Bucky got a new message.

 

20.56 T'Challa:

I can come over now.

 

Bucky grinned at the message.  _Jackpot._

He replied to T'Challa, then sprang up and went to his room to change and get ready.

When T'Challa texted to say he was outside, Bucky buzzed him in, and turned up the volume on the TV enough to hopefully disguise any other noises they'd make to Clint's neighbors. One of them had banged on the wall last time.

Bucky went to the door, let T'Challa in. They exchanged a quick, “Hey,” before T'Challa pinned Bucky to the wall, kicking the door shut with his foot. T'Challa pressed himself close to Bucky, one arm braced on the wall, his other hand coming up to trace warm fingertips over Bucky's throat.

T'Challa watched his hand move, eyes fixing on Bucky's adam's apple as he swallowed. “What are we doing?” he asked.

“Just sex,” Bucky said, hoping T'Challa wouldn't get sore over it. “I'm working tomorrow.”

T'Challa's hand moved around Bucky's throat to the back of his neck, scraping lightly with his nails. “It won't hurt.”

“Just sex,” Bucky repeated, “or you can leave.”

T'Challa sighed heavily and stepped back. “Have it your way.” He stalked off toward Bucky's room, pulling off his jacket.

Heart thudding, Bucky tried to regulate his breathing as he followed.

What was so awful about regular sex these days? Why was everyone into something kinky? T'Challa's thing was choking, but Bucky couldn't say he was a fan, and had so far turned down the repeated offers.

For some reason, people took one look at Bucky and assumed he'd be into kinky shit, but honestly, he was pretty vanilla.

Stripping off their clothes in Bucky's bedroom –except Bucky kept his t-shirt on because he hated his scarred shoulder– Bucky once again lamented his small single bed. T'Challa wasn't one for kissing, so they got straight down to business. Bucky lay face down on the bed and hugged a pillow. T'Challa got into place behind him, his knees nudging Bucky's legs apart.

T'Challa wasn't usually one for foreplay either, which was why Bucky had already prepped his ass with lube and his own fingers earlier. At least T'Challa was careful, and didn't bitch about using a rubber, which was more than a lot of guys did.

T'Challa pressed his fat cockhead at Bucky's hole, hands pushing his cheeks apart. Bucky tried to relax his body, let himself go pliant, as T'Challa eased himself inside, stretching Bucky slowly around his cock.

Bucky panted into his pillow as T'Challa inched in until his length was fully seated. The stretch burned. This was always the part when Bucky felt most vulnerable, and even though T'Challa usually got rough later, he got bonus points for taking this bit slow.

He draped himself over Bucky's body, caging him in with his strong arms and gently rocking his hips. Bucky muffled his cries into the pillow, hands clenching the soft down.

This was where Bucky would imagine his partner soothing him with nice words, maybe lean in and kiss his neck. Except that was always a fantasy that didn't happen in real life. Guys were either too all engulfing and didn't give Bucky space to breathe, or they were too distant like T'Challa was, and Bucky knew there wasn't much of a future between them besides these hook ups, so he just had to make the best of it.

When T'Challa was satisfied that Bucky was ready, he pulled out with a grunt, reaching for the lube and applying more to his cock. Bucky only had a moment to catch his breath before T'Challa grabbed his hips, hoisting Bucky up onto his knees. Bucky braced himself on his hands, spread his knees wide as T'Challa knelt behind him. Then T'Challa was pushing his cock inside him again, wet with lube and sliding easily.

Bucky grunted softly as T'Challa rammed in to the hilt. He held Bucky's hips in place as he pulled out again and thrust back in, starting up a steady, brutal rhythm. Bucky pressed his lips together and gripped onto the bedsheets. He didn't make a lot of noise during sex, always felt too self conscious. T'Challa knew what he was doing though, and he managed to work some sounds loose from Bucky when they fucked. The drag of his thick cock over Bucky's prostate was enough to shed his inhibitions as the pleasure mounted inside him.

T'Challa pounded Bucky hard, relentless. The mattress squeaked, their bodies made a sharp smacking sound when skin met skin. Bucky felt T'Challa's balls rhythmically slap against the sensitive underside of his own. His prostate hummed with the stimulation, tension building, and a desperate whine started in Bucky's throat.

T'Challa reached for Bucky's cock, hard and dripping pre-come, wrapped his large hand around the shaft and jerked it in time with his thrusts. The sensation pushed Bucky over the edge, his orgasm cresting high and crashing over him. He gasped with it, voice caught on a moan. T'Challa fucked him through it, stroking Bucky's cock as it pumped out his release.

Bucky keened again, overstimulated and wrung out already.

T'Challa didn't stop, he kept pounding his ass, nailing his prostate while his hand pulled on Bucky's slippery wet dick, pumping him for more. Bucky surrendered to it, gritting his teeth through the overstimulation and allowing the sweet cresting sensation to envelop him once again.

He cried out this time, his second orgasm almost painful up until release. Tears pricked his eyes, and Bucky gasped as he came down from it.

T'Challa seemed satisfied to stop torturing Bucky then. His record had been five in one session, but Bucky didn't think he could deal with that much tonight. He was grateful when he felt T'Challa's hand let go of his softening cock and return to hold his hip. T'Challa's other hand reached out and snagged hold of Bucky's hair, taking a firm grip and forcing Bucky's head back, his back bowing.

Bucky wasn't so keen on this part, but it was the compromise on T'Challa's kinks.

T'Challa yanked Bucky back by his hair and picked up the pace of his thrusts. His cock slammed into Bucky's ass hard, faster and faster until his smooth rhythm faltered into that staccato beat, and T'Challa came with a fierce grunt.

And not a moment too soon for Bucky, as he tried to tip his head down to swallow again and get enough air to his lungs. Damn, this guy was rough.

T'Challa finally released him, letting Bucky collapse onto the bed with a soft, “Oofh!”

T'Challa busied himself discarding the condom and picking up his clothes. Bucky pulled in a couple deep breaths, then reached for a clean towel.

And that was that.

  
Surprisingly, T'Challa hung around after. Bucky had half a blunt to smoke, and offered to share. He hadn't expected T'Challa to stay. They sat on the couch, fully clothed, passing the joint between them and drinking the rest of Clint's beer.

Bucky had asked if T'Challa wanted to pick a show to watch, but he hadn't seemed to care much, so Bucky picked a _Friends_ re-run, because at least the actors on-screen talked a lot.

T'Challa seemed a bit sullen tonight. Or, more so than usual, anyway.

After one and a half episodes of _Friends_ , and it didn't look like T'Challa was about to fly out the door anytime soon, Bucky was prompted to ask, “Everything okay?”

T'Challa was still staring into the middle distance of the coffee table, when he breathed in deep and said, “My father died.”

Bucky looked at him in surprise, but T'Challa didn't say anything more. Bucky didn't know what to say. He hadn't been prepared for an overshare.

“Sorry, man.” Bucky handed over the joint, intending to let T'Challa smoke the last of it.

They watched another episode of _Friends_ in stoned silence. Then, when a classic rom com movie started up, Bucky was quietly thrilled. This was literally all he ever felt like doing these days; watch some fun stuff at home, and snuggle on the couch.

Bucky cast a glance at T'Challa, still brooding. He didn't seem in a snuggly mood. Shame, Bucky thought. They didn't have to talk, they could just cuddle. Bucky wished he had enough game to make a move, but he felt too awkward. Bucky hardly knew the man on his couch, even though they'd fucked on and off for months. They'd met over a minor altercation in the gym, back when Bucky still forced himself to go, and it didn't take a genius to realise T'Challa was proud and easy to ruffle. Bucky had ruffled his feathers that day, and the rest was just sex.

“I'm hungry,” T'Challa announced.

“Me too,” Bucky agreed. “Ain't got much in.” Maybe that would inspire him to leave.

T'Challa dug out his cell. “I'll order in.”

Bucky perked up at that. “Yes!” he agreed readily.

T'Challa had Chinese delivered, which he paid for. Bucky was ecstatic. They ate as the romantic comedy was on, and while Bucky mostly enjoyed it, the wedding theme got his mind drifting to Steve Rogers – _his_ Steve– finally getting married. Well, not that it seemed Bucky had been invited to the wedding ceremony, but he had been invited to the bachelor party.

Ugh, where he'd hardly know anyone and would likely be the only gay man there.

Bucky found himself saying, “Hey, I've got this thing to go to in a few weeks, and I was wondering...” He trailed off as T'Challa looked at him. Shit, what was he even asking? “Um, don't worry about it.”

“What thing?” T'Challa asked.

“Um...” Bucky fiddled with a stray noodle at the bottom of his carton.

“I'm leaving in a month,” T'Challa said.

Oh, Bucky thought. Well, that sucked. “Like, for good?”

T'Challa placed his carton on the table, leaned back on the couch. “For the foreseeable future, yes.”

“Ah, right.” Bucky felt deflated again. “Where was it?”

“Wakanda.”

Bucky nodded. “Okay.”

They lapsed back into silence. The credits of the rom com rolled up the screen to a jovial tune.

“What is your thing?” T'Challa asked, and Bucky tried to shrug it off.

“It's nothing, don't worry.”

“Tell me, and I'll decide if it's nothing,” T'Challa replied.

Oh, and there was the smartass that Bucky had first met.

“You wouldn't like it,” Bucky told him. “Just forget I said anything.”

T'Challa gave him an assessing look, then the corner of his lips curled up. “A wedding?” he guessed.

Bucky blinked at him. The effects of the blunt had almost gone, but he was still groggy. “No,” he spluttered. “Actually, it's a bachelor party.”

T'Challa's eyebrows rose with interest.

“A bachelor party of mostly straight men,” Bucky amended. “At least, I'm guessing.”

“Why are you guessing?” T'Challa's tone implied Bucky was being dense.

“I don't know any of them,” Bucky explained. “It's a straight wedding, so.” He shrugged again.

“And who is getting married?”

Bucky made a face and mumbled, “My best friend from ages ago that I sort of dated.”

This evening was overshare all the way.

T'Challa hummed thoughtfully. “When is it?”

Bucky got out his phone, checked the date and showed T'Challa. Surprisingly, he nodded and said he would still be around.

“My flight is two days after that,” he said. “Now, why can't you go on your own?”

Bucky gave him a look. “Why would I want to go hang out with a bunch of straight dudes?”

T'Challa laughed lightly. “Flirt with them?”

Bucky huffed. “Nope. Not gonna happen. I haven't seen this guy in... Shit, years. And we were best friends. I'm not gonna go hit on his buddies and upset his straight lifestyle.”

“Hmm,” T'Challa replied

“Yeah.”

“So, what would you want me to do?”

“Well, y'know...” Bucky tipped his face down, hoping his long hair would obscure his blush. “If it sucks, I won't stay long, or anything. But he... I mean... it wouldn't hurt to show up and make him... y'know.” _Wow, shut up_ , Bucky's brain told him. His mouth was loose tonight.

“Jealous?” T'Challa supplied. He seemed amused by that. “And you asked me?”

Embarrassed, Bucky tried to backtrack. “I told you it was dumb. Forget it.”

“If I agree,” T'Challa said, making Bucky look up in surprise, “what do I get?”

“Wha... um, what do you want? I'll buy your drinks for the night?”

T'Challa shook his head, grinning like the cat who'd got the cream. “If I agree to accompany you to the party, you agree to something I want.”

Bucky opened his mouth to ask, when he realised he knew exactly where this was going. He groaned lightly, and pulled a cushion to his chest. “No,” he huffed, leaning back on the couch.

“I haven't even said what I want.”

“I can guess.”

“Hmm,” T'Challa said. Bucky rolled his eyes. “All right, put it like this. If you agree, I'll accompany you to the party, stay as long as you want, charm the guests. Say whatever you want me to say...”

Bucky side-eyed him.

“Then,” T'Challa continued with a wicked grin, “afterwards, you come home with me, and you're mine for the rest of the night.”

Bucky wanted to laugh at the offer, but it was actually kinda tempting. At least he could show up with a hot date. Wouldn't seem like such a loser then.

He swallowed, chewing it over. T'Challa didn't help by leaning closer, arm on the back of the couch. Bucky shifted, squirming under the attention. “I'll think about it.”

Truthfully, sometimes he thought about it a lot, about submitting completely to someone else, but he also figured that would take a lot of trust, and when he'd already had a dick of an ex like Brock Rumlow, Bucky didn't have a whole lot of trust left for new people.

Especially ones who seemed fixated on wanting to choke him.

Bucky sure knew how to pick 'em.

“It'll feel good,” T'Challa said, which was an impossible thing to promise, really. What if Bucky didn't like it? He was Mr. Vanilla.

“I'll think about it,” he repeated.

T'Challa edged closer, the hand in his lap coming to rest on Bucky's full belly. T'Challa's fingers curled under the edge of his t-shirt, stroking the sensitive skin of his abdomen. Bucky was shy about his middle, so having a wandering hand up his shirt put him on edge.

“I can be gentle,” T'Challa was saying. “I know what I'm doing.”

Bucky squirmed away from the hand touching his stomach, and pulled his t-shirt back down. “I'm just not into it.”

“Have you tried it before?”

Bucky was about to say no, but considered lying.

T'Challa noticed his hesitation, and moved in closer. “It's not about lack of oxygen,” he said quietly. He moved his hand up to Bucky's neck, even as Bucky tensed, but all he did was brush the backs of his fingers to Bucky's Adams apple as it bobbed. “I wouldn't touch your airway,” T'Challa explained, hand rotating to circle Bucky's neck. Gentle fingers and a thumb tapped at the sides. “Pleasure comes from briefly stopping the blood flow on either side. I can start with a soft squeeze. It won't hurt you.”

Bucky eyed T'Challa dubiously. “I dunno...”

“I could show you now?” T'Challa's fingers pressed a little tighter.

Bucky wondered how he got himself into shit like this. He just wanted to watch movies and cuddle.

“Maybe not when we're stoned,” Bucky said, and T'Challa took his hand away.

“You are shy,” he declared.

About being choked? Bucky thought. _Um, yeah._

The sound of a key in the door interrupted them, and Bucky was relieved when Clint tumbled through the door. “Oh.” Clint's gaze zeroed in on the take-out. “Any left?”

“Some noodles,” Bucky said.

T'Challa got up from the couch. He was clearly making a move now they'd been disturbed. Bucky said a cheery, “See ya later,” to which T'Challa hmmed in reply, then strode out of the apartment.

_Ugh, whatever._

“Sorry,” Clint said, taking up the vacated space on the couch. “Didn't know you had company over. You shoulda texted me.” He inspected the remains of the take-out, emptying the contents into one carton.

“It's really not a problem,” Bucky said. “I'm working tomorrow anyway.”

“Early?” Clint asked, forking noodles into his mouth.

“Late.”

“Lucky you.”

“Yeah.” Bucky huffed a laugh. _Lucky me._

 

~ ~ ~

 

Bucky had another vivid dream on the morning of his first day off; probably because he woke up, thought about Steve and the party, then fell back asleep. Oh, such a surprise to dream about Steve, like he wasn't on Bucky's mind at all.

Now, Bucky stared up at his cracked ceiling as he remembered the dream. It was more like memories, really. Little, scrawny Steve Rogers and his delicate, artist's hands. His strong jawline, his ridiculously long eyelashes and his very blue eyes. Those huge dorky glasses he'd worn at school. His surprisingly deep voice, which had dropped way before Bucky's had, like pretty much overnight.

Then Steve in high school, when he'd suddenly shot up and been tall and lanky, all elbows and knees, and trying out contact lenses instead of glasses for the first time. The two of them making out under duvets –with Steve's pointy elbows and knobbly knees poking Bucky all the time– in single, narrow beds. No one had ever seemed to catch on to what they'd been doing, not even their parents. They'd carried on like that up until they went to different colleges and sort of...

Drifted apart.

Bucky heaved himself up before his mind led him down other paths. He wondered if Steve was still with that girl he'd met at college, Peggy. Was that who Steve was marrying?

He wandered into the kitchenette, found Clint leaning against a counter, fully dressed like he'd just come in. He was frowning at a utility bill. Bucky pulled his thin robe around him tighter, covering his shorts and threadbare tee. “Hey.”

Clint looked up. “Hey, man.”

Bucky reached for the cereal, about the only food he had left. Pay day soon. “Hope that ain't bad news?”

Clint laughed and tossed the letter on the counter. “Nah. It'll keep. Why does everything cost so much now?”

“Er, inflation? Everything sucks?” Bucky poured out the last of his Fruit Loops, and started to eat them without milk.

Clint stared. “That all you got?”

“Um...” Bucky felt ridiculous. “Two days till pay day.”

Clint nodded. “C'mon, let's go stock up. I won a big hand last night.”

Bucky ditched his cereal immediately. “Lemme get dressed!” He hurried back to his room.

 

Clint had a car, and even an old rust-bucket like his was better than the chill of walking around in November. He drove them to one of the better stores, and parked. Bucky was wrapped up snug in thick sweats, scarf, gloves and a hat, which he kept on even in the store. He leaned on the trolley as he pushed it after Clint, who perused the shelves.

It felt like being a kid again, shopping with an adult. Bucky kinda missed that.

“How much ramen?” Clint asked, scooping up an armful from the shelf and dumping it in the cart.

“A lot,” Bucky said.

Clint took another armful. “So, who was that guy last night?”

_Oh, no._

“Just a pal,” Bucky said, feeling shy. Clint was straight, and ten years older than him. Sometimes Bucky thought of Clint as like a big brother, or a dad. He had that vibe about him.

“Same guy you had real noisy sex with couple months back?” Clint asked.

“ _Clint_.” Bucky flushed. “Were you listening?”

Clint guffawed. “I came home and heard whoopee goin' on, so I went back out. I forgot to ask who it was, until now.”

“ _Whoopee?_ ” Bucky couldn't help a laugh. “Man, you're old.”

“Hey.” Clint tossed packet of dried pasta at Bucky, who blocked it with his elbow and knocked it into their cart. “So, is it?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Yeah, same guy.”

“Oh, _really?_ ” Clint waggled his eyebrows, because he was an asshole. “It serious?”

Bucky thought about T'Challa's weird kinks, and about him leaving soon anyway. “Nah. Just friends with benefits.”

“Ah, man.” Clint turned to inspect jars of sauce. “You made a cute pair all close on the couch.”

Bucky huffed lightly. That had been the most time he'd spent with T'Challa since they'd met. “Not that close.”

“Okay. Hey, don't go nuts when I'm away,” Clint said, serious. “I don't mind you having a date over, but I don't wanna come back to like, a scene from ancient Greece or some shit.”

“Wha...?” Bucky made a face of confusion. Clint was odd sometimes. Straight guys were real odd. “Okay. I promise I won't perform the ten labors of Hercules,” Bucky said solemnly, because he was an asshole too. “Or bring you Medusa's head, or release the kraken, or slay a hydra.”

“The fuck?”

“All Greek scenes,” Bucky explained. “Unless you want to be more specific?”

They made their way to the fresh produce section. Clint sometimes wanted apples or gourds for target practice at work, or so he'd said. (Bucky suspected he just needed a manly excuse to buy fruit once in a while.)

“I meant,” Clint said, “I don't want to come home to a parade of dicks all over my apartment.”

A woman nearby looked over in shock, and Bucky quickly pretended to examine some apples. “Dude,” he hissed, “I wouldn't anyway. You want me to house-sit, I'd do that and not throw parties. Chill.”

Not to mention it was hard enough getting _one_ date, Bucky thought. Why did people assume he was always rolling in cock in his spare time? Bucky would rather go to dinner first, thanks.

“Cool, that's settled.” Clint grabbed a bag of apples, placed them in the cart.

“When you going?” Bucky asked. As usual, Clint hadn't been specific.

“Few months,” Clint said, tugging on the cart to get Bucky moving. “Just before spring. Best time to go.”

“Old Farmer Barton.” Bucky laughed, then had to dodge the loaf of bread Clint threw his way. Worth it.

If Clint was going to rent a farm for the summer to see if he wanted to live there long term, Bucky was going to ride his ass about it. He was also kinda terrified about Clint leaving for good, and then Bucky really would be on his own.

 

Back home, eaten and topped up with caffeine, Bucky tackled his wardrobe situation. A chore he'd been putting off for months. Clothes that definitely didn't fit got shoved to the back of the closet, as Bucky had grand hopes of fitting back into them one day.

Other clothes he threw onto his bed so he could sort them. Lately he'd been living in sweats day in, day out, because they were comfy and stretchy. Bucky was only going to and from work, or sitting at home. He hadn't gone _out_ out in ages. Maybe... a year? Not clubs or bars, and truthfully he didn't miss it. But he hadn't been on any dates, or gone anywhere nice either.

None of his jeans fit. Which was a disaster, because he couldn't afford new ones and he couldn't show up to Steve's party in sweats.

Most of his t-shirts and tops were snug around his middle. Bucky had tried to ignore his growing pudge of a belly the last couple years, but it was very much _there_.

Another good reason to wear black, as it didn't show as much. He could get away with the tops he had, but that didn't solve the pants situation.

Bucky huffed in defeat. He stomped out of his room and went to find Clint. “Have you got any jeans that'd fit me?”

Clint looked up from the couch, phone in hand. “Huh? Why?”

“None of mine fit, and I've gotta go to a stupid party in four weeks, which isn't enough time to afford any new ones.”

Clint raised an eyebrow at him, and smiled. “Y'know, I may have some.” Then he got up and headed for his room, Bucky in tow.

Clint's room was a real mess. Boxes and suitcases stacked everywhere, all half opened. Hardly any furniture. Clint dug around through the mess, while Bucky waited. He caught sight of the framed photo of Clint with his kids, and Bucky felt a little sad for him.

He supposed they were both kinda lonely. Clint played a lot of card games with other guys at his work, and came home drunk a lot.

“You digging out some bell bottoms?” he teased.

“Asshole.”

“Please tell me you wore bell bottoms.”

“I'm not that old!” Clint laughed.

“Night fever, night fever,” Bucky sang.

Clint tossed a pair of jeans at him. “Try those on for size.”

Bucky held the jeans up. They looked good. “Are these Levi's?”

“Yeah.” Clint sat on a box. “Got those through work. Been meaning to sell them. Haven't got around to it yet.”

Bucky eyed him dubiously. Clint worked in security for shipping, or something like that, and sometimes came home with very random things in the months Bucky had lived with him. The most random yet had been the multi-pack of assorted condoms that Clint had handed over with the vague explanation that it'd fallen off the back of a truck.

“So... wait, are there more of these?”

“Yeah, in the box.”

“Seriously, Clint.” Bucky put the pair aside and knelt to root through the box. Sure enough, more jeans. “I don't even know my size right now.”

“Is it size 'too many pizzas'?” Clint chortled.

“How'd you guess,” Bucky quipped back. He pulled out a couple pairs of jeans with a larger waist. “Can I try these?”

“Sure.”

Bucky took the jeans and went to his room. Clint called after him, “I've also got a box of leggings somewhere!”

Bucky laughed. Seriously, leggings would be easier.

In his room, Bucky took off his sweats and tried on the first pair of Levi's, a dark blue denim. The jeans got halfway up his thighs, but no further. “Shit,” Bucky cursed. Why were men's jeans so damn slim all the time? He'd never fit his thighs into these, let alone his stomach.

The next pair were a dark gray, and a couple sizes up.

They didn't fit either.

“Ugh, kill me.” Bucky folded the jeans and stomped back to Clint's room in his t-shirt and boxer shorts. “These don't fit,” he complained.

Clint was now on his bed, eyes glued to his phone. “If there's no jeans, I vote for leggings.”

“No way.” Bucky replaced the too-small jeans, and searched through the box again. “I really liked the gray ones,” he lamented.

Clint wasn't listening.

“Are you playing Poker?” Bucky asked.

“Mm hm,” was Clint's reply.

Bucky took the hint and went back to the jeans. There was another pair in a larger size, and that was the largest in the gray. There was large in blue as well, so Bucky took both of those, and left Clint to it.

Bucky wished he had the money and the energy to go shopping for new clothes.

He tried on the jeans. The blue were a bust, cut far too slim for him, so he set them aside. The gray pair had more give, and Bucky held his breath with anticipation as he pulled them up over his hips. They were on, but the fly wasn't even close to zipping up over his gut. “So close,” he muttered to his stomach. “Okay, time for a diet until the party.”

He changed back into his sweats, and went to inform Clint. “I like these...” Bucky found Clint laying flat on his bed, hand rubbing his forehead. “What's up?”

“I, uh... just lost some money.”

“Ah.” Bucky fidgeted on the spot. “Anything I can do?”

“Actually!” Clint lifted his hand to point. “If you sell those jeans for me online or something, that'd help.”

“Okay.”

“And you can keep a pair if you want.”

“Deal.” Bucky bent to pick up the box, and took it to his room. He was feeling better about this party now.

 

A week later, after careful dieting and driving himself mad from hunger, Bucky tried on the jeans again and was furious when the fly still wouldn't do up.

Barely three weeks till the party, and Bucky had nothing good to wear. How could he show up on his own, in sweats, and be able to face anybody? They'd think he was a loser.

He'd already booked the day off, and told Sam Wilson that he'd go. He couldn't back out now.

In a fit of panic, Bucky texted T'Challa.

 

21.06 Bucky:

Still able to come to that party with me?

 

21.15 T'Challa:

Yes.

 

21.16 T'Challa:

So you agree to what I asked for?

 

Bucky rolled his eyes. But he texted back anyway.

 

21.20 Bucky:

Okay. :)

 

Bucky had no idea why he'd added a smiley face. This wasn't a smiley face situation, in his book.

T'Challa sent back a high five emoji. “Dork,” Bucky muttered. Another message followed.

 

21.22 T'Challa:

We should meet up before the party. We'll need to be sober for this.

 

Bucky swallowed heavily. How did he get himself into these things? Seriously?

 _Yeah, let me just check my rota_ , he thought. _See when I'm free to get choked out and stuff._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings:
> 
> Bucky is single and has an ongoing casual sex arrangement with T'Challa, who has a choking kink that he wants to engage in. Bucky isn't sure, so mild dubious consent issues, because of being talked into it when he's really unsure about consenting.
> 
> They end up making a deal that Bucky will try it out one time, if T'Challa is his date to the bachelor party he got invited to, as he wants to make his old flame Steve jealous. 
> 
> Also, Bucky is a care assistant in a home, and there is graphic content of sponge baths for old men, and inappropriate flirting. I would hope that it is more amusing than anything, but this is your warning. :p
> 
> Obviously Bucky is cute and everyone wants to flirt with him, but he has serious self esteem issues.
> 
> Brief mentions of past relationships for everyone.
> 
> I personally think this is a fluffy fic, but your mileage may vary. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ~


	2. Pick Yourself Up and Try Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ongoing pants situation, choke me and chill, the bachelor party, drunk Steve Rogers (closely followed by sober Steve Rogers), and emotions, starring Bucky Barnes, and Steve Rogers.
> 
> Chapter title from Try Again by Aaliyah.
> 
> ~ ~ ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can i just say a huge THANK YOU to all who expressed an interest in this fic, read and left comments. 
> 
> As i said, i will try to add full content warnings at the END NOTES of each chapter. 
> 
> Basically chapter 2 is the last T'Challa/Bucky scene, as from then on Bucky reunites with Steeb. 
> 
> ~ ~ ~

* * *

_I would rather die of passion than of boredom._

~ Vincent Van Gough

 

 

 

Bucky's Playlist 

_Respectable_ – Mel  & Kim

 _Summertime_ – Jazzy Jeff  & The Fresh Prince

 _Try_ _Again_ – Aaliyah

 _Pony_ – Ginuwine

 _Viva_ _Forever_ – Spice Girls

 _Lovefool_ – The Cardigans

 

 

 

Bucky had only five days until the dreaded bachelor party, and despite all his best efforts to diet –no candy, no fast food, no beer, and far too many boring oatmeal-shakes– his bulging middle still refused to budge an inch, nor fit into the unforgiving jeans. He'd texted Wanda a panicked, ' _Help_ ', and at her reply stopped off in Brooklyn after his shift for a last minute shopping spree.

Wanda worked in a thrift store, open till seven, and said she was certain she could find something in Bucky's price range.

Wanda was the granddaughter of Mr. Lehnsherr in the care home, and her twin brother Pietro –who sold weed to Clint– had brought Wanda to Clint's one time and they'd all watched a movie together. She'd seemed to know Bucky was mostly gay without having to ask, and they'd become friends.

When Bucky arrived at the little store, Wanda was at the counter waiting with a towering pile of folded pants.

“Uh...” Bucky paled at the sight. “Wanda...”

She picked up half the pile. “I looked for anything with the measurements you sent me,” she said, shoving them into his arms. “It's been a slow day, so it gave me something to do.”

“It's freezing out there,” Bucky said, taking the pants to the changing area at the back. “Not surprised people are staying in.”

He got into the changing cubicle. Time for more wrestling into clothes and the inevitable crushing disappointment.

“Do you want some tea?” Wanda called. She always seemed to have a large thermos of some herbal concoction with her.

Bucky wasn't usually a fan of tea, but he was very cold after walking from the train station. “Yeah, that'd be great!”

He shut the door of the cubicle. It was small and he could peer over the top of it. Kinda reminded him of being at the gym, and it made him feel exposed. “Uh, lemme know if anyone comes in,” he called, feeling dumb. Give him time to hide.

“I doubt they will, but I'll give you a heads up.”

“Okay.”

Bucky quickly threw off his regular sweats to start trying on jeans. By the time Wanda came over and said his tea was on the side, Bucky was already feeling miserable. The first pair that he'd tried fit around his waist but had baggy legs, which Bucky just wasn't used to, and the next pair had been slimmer but wouldn't do up at all.

He really needed to reacquaint himself with the gym.

“How's it going?” Wanda asked, standing outside. Bucky could see her pointed black boots under the bottom of the door.

“Ugh,” he answered. “Why is this so hard?”

“What style do you want?” she asked, going away and coming back. “You didn't say.” Over the top of the door, she passed the rest of the pants she'd chosen.

Bucky took them, laid them on the little seat. “I want to look good but also be able to breathe. Which seems impossible in jeans, unless they're baggy and I don't like those.”

“Sure you gave me the right measurements?”

“I only measured yesterday.”

“Hm.” Wanda walked away. “Well, if those are no good, I have some women's ones you can try.”

“How would that help?” Bucky asked, but got no reply.

Clint's suggestion for leggings was looking a more viable option.

Bucky pressed on. He barely had twenty minutes before the store closed, and no doubt Wanda wanted to leave and eat. Just when he'd thought every pair of pants was a disaster, Bucky tried on an almost black pair, and miraculously they fit.

“No way,” he murmured, breathing in and pulling up the fly. The button closed; snug, but closed. Bucky shifted experimentally, seeing how they felt. They were definitely tight –his junk wasn't going _anywhere_ in these– but he could move just enough to wear them for an evening, he was sure. If he didn't drink or eat too much.

Bucky looked in the mirror, assessing. The front seemed okay; not too tight that anyone would notice. He turned around to check out his ass, which looked pretty damn good in these. Bucky was surprised. The cut and the pockets really helped, and overall it was a nice view.

What a relief.

Swinging open the cubicle door, Bucky stepped out and threw up his arms in triumph. “They fit!”

Wanda, and her brother, Pietro, both looked over at him.

Bucky froze in surprise. “Uh...” he said, lowering his arms. He usually saved his more flamboyant side for when there were no other men around. Straight men, anyway.

Pietro didn't seem concerned. Like Wanda, he was polite, if a little reserved. Or maybe he was just stoned all the time.

“Hey,” Pietro greeted, swigging from a thermos of his own. “We're gonna come with you to see the old man.”

For a second, Bucky thought he meant Mr. Lehnsherr, but then he realised Pietro meant Clint.

“Oh,” he said. This meant they'd be smoking joints, eating junk food and watching movies. His stomach rumbled in anticipation. Bucky really wanted to join in, but not only would that mess with his emergency diet, he also had to be up at half four in the morning.

Oh, well, he thought. Best laid plans...

“Cool,” he said, backing into the cubicle. “I'll just...” He shut himself away to change. When he checked the brown paper label for the price on the magical jeans, his heart sank when he saw it was still more than he'd expected.

Okay, he thought, weighing up the options. This could work. He'd already saved some on food, or lack of it. Maybe Clint could lend him twenty bucks until next payday.

Bucky got himself together, and purchased the almost black jeans. Wanda saved his ass again when she rung it through the till as a sale item, so it about scraped by his affordable price range.

They waited while Wanda closed up shop, and then walked to the train station together, Bucky swinging his purchase in hand and feeling a little better about himself.

Now he just had one more _errand_ left to do before the party, and he was home free.

 

~ ~ ~

 

And not two days later, the errand was upon him. Bucky took a deep breath as he was buzzed into the building.

This was it, he thought. No going back.

Maybe with a stroke of luck, Bucky would die by accident and he'd never have to deal with his life choices again. Also it made him smile thinking of how T'Challa would then have to dispose of his body like some bad rom com gone wrong. That'd be pretty funny.

Bucky took the elevator up to T'Challa's floor. He'd been here once. It was a nice building. Way nicer than Bucky's, and T'Challa had a huge double bed with expensive cotton sheets, but Bucky always felt super awkward at other people's places. Like he was outstaying his welcome the second he set foot in the door.

Bucky walked along the thick carpeted floor, found the apartment, and knocked. T'Challa opened the door almost immediately, so he must've been waiting on him. A subtle waft of cologne greeted Bucky's nostrils.

“Hey,” he said.

“James.” T'Challa smiled as he stepped aside, inviting Bucky in.

Once inside, T'Challa closed the door. Bucky fidgeted with his sleeve cuff, debating taking his jacket off. Then T'Challa crowded him into the wall and Bucky's focus narrowed to him. Before he could panic too much, T'Challa leant in and said, “You smell good.”

Bucky didn't mention he had a new shampoo. T'Challa was already pressing against him and reaching up to brush his fingers across Bucky's neck.

“Your safeword?” T'Challa prompted.

“Um, red.” Bucky swallowed against the ghosting of fingertips over his throat.

“Good,” T'Challa praised. “And if you forget, or can't say it, what do you do?”

Bucky reached up and gently tapped T'Challa's arm with his fingers, as per their agreement via text.

“Good. Now, repeat that harder.”

Bucky tapped his arm again, more confidently this time.

“That's good, James. Now, come with me.”

T'Challa led Bucky to his bedroom, where it smelled of the same cologne. T'Challa had probably applied it in his en suite and walked through the room right after.

Bucky was handed a tall glass of ice water, and he drank half gratefully. The flatscreen mounted on the wall was tuned into some R'n'B channel, but not any artist Bucky recognised.

“May I take your coat?” T'Challa asked, mouth quirking into a smile.

“Um, sure.” Bucky went to throw his coat off, but first had to set down the glass –on a coaster– before taking it off. T'Challa took his coat, hung it on the back of a chair.

Bucky took off his remaining outer layers; scarf, gloves, hoodie. He sort of just placed those on the chair too.

T'Challa started unbuttoning his shirt.

_Oh-kayyy, here we go._

Bucky followed T'Challa's lead, undressing as they approached the bed. Bucky kept his top on, as usual. He'd made sure to wear a sports top, so at least he wouldn't get so hot. And as usual, T'Challa wordlessly tried to lift the edge of Bucky's top, and like always Bucky pulled it back down and squirmed away.

They didn't know each other well enough for Bucky to expose that part of himself. He already felt self conscious enough.

At least T'Challa never pressed further; he withdrew without comment, and pushed his hands down to cup Bucky's ass instead.

Bucky found himself a little wrong-footed, as normally at his place he would've gotten himself all... _prepared_ , but this time he hadn't.

Like he was going to ride the train with a lubed up ass. No way.

So when he got into bed with T'Challa, Bucky mentioned lube... which he'd helpfully left behind in his coat pocket.

“I have some.” T'Challa leaned across to his nightstand, produced a tube of the good stuff.

Bucky reached for it. “Shall I just–”

T'Challa stopped him, and kept hold of the tube. “May I?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Lay back for me.”

“Okay.”

 _Shit_ , not on his back. They didn't usually do it this way round. Though it did give Bucky the opportunity to watch. T'Challa bent over him –his toned stomach stayed impressively flat– and carefully removed Bucky's boxer shorts. Bucky tugged at the hem of his top, pulling it lower to hide his middle.

T'Challa still had his briefs on, and Bucky noticed the outline of his erection straining against the fabric. Bucky felt guilty that he wasn't sporting a full boner yet, he was just too nervous.

T'Challa squeezed some of the lube onto his fingers, and Bucky assumed he'd be going straight in. He even opened his legs as T'Challa came in closer, but he didn't reach for Bucky's ass, he closed his fingers around Bucky's dick instead.

“Oh,” Bucky breathed, as T'Challa took a firmer grip on his shaft and moved his hand up and down. Bucky grunted softly when T'Challa swiped his thumb over the head, then continued the up, down slide on his shaft. His dick got hard, and Bucky opened his legs wider, writhing on his back in pleasure as T'Challa jacked him slowly.

This wasn't so bad, he thought. This was kinda nice.

T'Challa brought him so close, Bucky closed his eyes and got ready to ride that feeling all the way, but T'Challa stopped abruptly. His hand released Bucky's cock and the impending orgasm Bucky had been about to enjoy was halted in its tracks.

He opened his eyes and tried to muster a glare. T'Challa grinned at him as he reached for the bottle of lube. He applied more to his fingers, came in closer and pressed two fingers to Bucky's ass.

Bucky tensed a little as they breached his entrance. He hadn't had anyone else prep him for a while, always concerned they'd be too quick.

T'Challa took his time. He moved his fingers in and out in careful, shallow thrusts, slowly opening Bucky's hole. Bucky hummed his ascent. This was okay, he thought. He tried to regulate his breathing, keep his breaths even, but it was hard when he was both turned on and feeling nervous. T'Challa seemed to be focused on opening him up, as he wasn't touching Bucky's prostate at all.

Okay, Bucky could live with this part too, it actually felt nice when someone knew what they were doing.

T'Challa opened his hole smoothly, getting it all wet with lube. He added a third finger, slowly moving them in and out, just grazing over Bucky's sweet spot and making him whimper. It wasn't enough to get him back to where he'd been on the edge, not when his cock was being ignored. Bucky's cock lay hard against his belly, nudging his t-shirt. Bucky stared at it a moment, slowly coming to the realisation that he probably should've brought a spare top with him.

Too late now.

T'Challa speared him with four fingers and Bucky pushed down on them, shifting his hips to get them touching where he wanted. T'Challa leaned in, his other hand extending to grab Bucky by the throat.

Bucky stilled in surprise, eyes snapping to T'Challa. He looked calm, but his hand was on Bucky's throat, and he _panicked_. He reached up to T'Challa's hand, intending to push it off.

“James,” T'Challa said, “breathe.”

Bucky inhaled, surprised that he still could, and realised that his airway wasn't blocked. He breathed out, and in again.

“Good. Keep breathing,” T'Challa told him. His hand was on Bucky's throat, but the only pressure came at each side, from his thumb and forefinger just under his jaw. There was no other pressure.

“Okay?” T'Challa asked him.

Bucky swallowed –he could do that too– and nodded in reply. He lowered his hands, though it went against his survival instincts. His heart thudded, pulse beating loud in his ears and thumping under T'Challa's fingertips.

T'Challa seemed to sense his apprehension. “It's all right,” he soothed, “this will feel good.” He shifted down just that little bit more and tightened his grip. “Remember,” he added, “you can use your safeword or tap out when you need to.” He grinned wickedly. “But I think you will enjoy it too much for that.”

The finger and thumb on his neck pressed harder, and instantly Bucky felt the _thump-thump-thump_ of his pulse. He kept breathing, unsure what would happen next. T'Challa still had the fingers of his other hand buried deep in Bucky's ass, moving slowly in and out, in and out, distracting him.

Bucky started to feel light-headed, a little dizzy, but then the pressure on his neck eased and the light-headedness crept away.

 _Was that it?_ He wondered, dazed. That wasn't so bad.

T'Challa tightened his grip, and Bucky's pulse thudded in his ears again, louder now. The light-headed feeling seeped in. Bucky's eyes went unfocused as he watched T'Challa leaning over him, his arm extended and bicep taut as he held Bucky by the throat.

He could crush me if he wanted to, Bucky thought, as he started to see double.

Again he was released, and again the grip tightened. Bucky wasn't sure how long it went on for, but he counted the times. They got to four squeezes, and then T'Challa adjusted his fingers in Bucky's ass, pressed just two inside and hooked them right into his prostate.

Bucky's hips bucked on reflex. T'Challa kept pressing, fingers rubbing on that small bundle of nerves as his other hand tightened on Bucky's throat.

Bucky's face felt hot, his skin on fire. His hands latched onto T'Challa's arm urgently. T'Challa kept hitting his prostate, stirring the fire deep in his groin. The pressure built quickly, cresting high as the orgasm rushed in, but Bucky's eyes rolled back and the light-headed fog won out.

A sharp slap on his face brought him back just as his orgasm rocked through his body. Bucky whimpered with it, trapped in the tense and release as his cock shot its load all over his stomach.

Bucky breathed deep. He felt spaced out and wired. It was _intense_.

T'Challa wasn't holding his throat now, and Bucky couldn't help but feel a tiny bit relieved. He watched Bucky closely, fingers still circling and pressing into his prostate. “Do that again,” he commanded. “Come for me.” His fingers increased the pressure.

Bucky didn't have much choice, his body obeyed the masterful manipulations it was subjected to, and tensed up as the pressure built again. Bucky opened his mouth, panting as his second orgasm shook through him. His cock spurted more release over him too, making Bucky wear it on his black shirt. It wasn't as intense as the first orgasm, but it was still enough to leave Bucky breathless.

He felt dizzy. As he came down from it, he reached out to tap T'Challa's arm. “Wait,” he breathed.

T'Challa stopped, and gently removed his fingers from Bucky's ass. “Okay?”

Bucky closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself to get it together. “Just... dizzy.”

T'Challa was quiet a moment, then hummed. “Your blood pressure must be lower than I thought. Stay laying down.” He shifted to get up. “I'll bring you a soda.”

Bucky huffed a laugh in reply. Okay, he thought.

T'Challa did indeed bring him a soda, with a straw so Buck could sip it while laying back on T'Challa's plump pillows. For a few moments, he felt like it'd all been worth it to receive this fuss.

Except the being covered in his own load part... Bucky could've lived without that. He subtly turned up the hem of his shirt a couple times to contain the mess. Then his chubby belly was on display and made him feel self conscious, especially when his bed partner was so ripped.

And still sporting a boner.

“I won't do such a long build up next time,” T'Challa told him. “Then you shouldn't feel as dizzy.”

Bucky stared at him. “Next time?”

T'Challa smiled. “That was a warm up.”

 _Fuck_.

Bucky tried to muster his courage. “Right,” he said. “And how many times do you, er, usually...?”

T'Challa leaned on his side, pushed his briefs down his legs. His thick cock sprang free, curving up toward his belly. He looked at Bucky, but Bucky was staring at his cock. “Let me fuck you.”

And, well... There was something in the way T'Challa spoke, the way he was already reaching for a condom, that exuded authority and made Bucky feel all quivery and hot. He watched as T'Challa rolled the rubber onto his hard cock, and imagined for a moment what it'd be like if T'Challa really did force him, if he just held Bucky down and fucked him senseless for as long as he wanted to.

Bucky's dick grew hard, and he wordlessly turned himself onto his stomach, presenting his ass in submission.

T'Challa got into place behind him, hands smacking onto the meat of his buttocks and making him jump. “Hmm, you like it from behind, don't you,” he said, hands squeezing and pinching at Bucky's flesh. Bucky squirmed in place, let himself go pliant. He felt T'Challa's hard cock poke between his thighs, and hands smacked on his flesh again before they took a hold and pushed his ass-cheeks apart. The blunt head of T'Challa's cock pressed at Bucky's hole, still sticky wet with lube, and pushed inside slowly.

Bucky grunted, voice muffled in the pillow as he tried to hide his face. T'Challa pushed his cock in all the way, hips meeting Bucky's ass as he pushed in to the hilt. He leaned over Bucky's back, dropping his face close to growl in his ear, “I think you like it deep, James. Deep and hard, and as much as you can take.” He snapped his hips, slamming his cock in and making Bucky cry out. “Come on,” T'Challa grunted, snapping his hips again, “let me hear you.”

Bucky buried his face deeper into the pillow as T'Challa fucked him hard. His cries were muffled and it was difficult to breathe. T'Challa kept ploughing into him, and Bucky turned his face to the side, blowing hair out of the way and sucking in air.

T'Challa pushed at Bucky's leg, tilting him onto his side as he continued to fuck him. The slide of T'Challa's cock was slick, the sounds of their flesh smacking together loud. T'Challa reached forward and brushed Bucky's long hair away from his face with his hands.

His cock was angled just right to hit Bucky's prostate with each reverberating thrust, and he tensed with the impending pressure build up, his balls drawing in tight. T'Challa fit one hand around around Bucky's throat, fingers pressing only at the sides and leaving his airway clear.

Bucky was on the brink of orgasm, not thinking straight, as his hands came up to pull at the hand on his throat, but T'Challa used his other hand to swat Bucky's away. “Breathe, James,” he ordered, still thrusting hard, “and come for me.”

Bucky tried to breathe; the pressure on his neck was distracting, but he _could_ breathe. His hands flailed, his body tensed hard as his prostate kickstarted his orgasm. Bucky was so distracted, he didn't realise his eyes were closing until a slap on his face woke him up, made him inhale sharply and come to just as his orgasm tumbled down its peak and the pleasure gripped him. Moans spilled from his lips as his cock spurted out what it had left. T'Challa fucked him through it until he too was groaning and coming in Bucky's ass.

He slammed his hips home once more with a satisfied grunt, before pulling out carefully. He collapsed onto the bed next to Bucky.

“See, that wasn't so bad,” he said with a grin.

“Yeah...” Bucky agreed breathlessly. He sat up a little, rubbed at his face. “The fuck you hit me for?”

“My apologies.” T'Challa shrugged. “It makes you breathe. Only needed if you're about to pass out, which you kept doing.” He shot Bucky a wry look, like it was all his fault. “You're a tough one to handle, James.”

Bucky gave him a look right back. “I'll bear that in mind,” he replied.

 

~

 

If Bucky thought he could creep home later undetected and just relax... Well, he should've known better.

As he was coming in the apartment door –wearing a borrowed shirt, with his own balled up in his pocket– Clint was coming out, which had them face to face for a startled moment on the threshold, before they manoeuvred around each other.

“Working?” Bucky asked, removing his scarf and gloves.

“Yeah.” Clint frowned, focussing on Bucky's neck as it was exposed. “The fuck happen to you?”

Bucky looked up, alarmed. “What? Nothing happened.”

Clint indicated to his neck. “Someone try something? You get jumped?”

Bucky flushed hot. Why did he take off his scarf? Why...

“No, it's... it...”

Clint waited. He looked concerned.

Bucky cleared his throat. “It was the loud sex guy.”

Clint frowned in confusion. “ _He_ jumped you?”

“No.” Bucky wanted to leave and start over. This was mortifying. “We were... y'know, playing around. In bed.”

Clint's frown slowly morphed into several different expressions before he seemed to settle on bemusement. Then he whistled. “Wild, man. You be careful with that shit.”

“I will.” Bucky hid his face with his scarf. “Now please leave, I need to go die right now.”

Clint chuckled. “Okay, man. Take it easy. Hey, listen. Don't go trying any of that erotic asphyxiation shit and accidentally top yourself. That is not a sight I need to come home to.”

Bucky shoved Clint out the door and shut it in his face.

 

~ ~ ~

 

The day of the party, Bucky had booked off. He had an amazing lie in, and honestly would've slept longer if it weren't for his rumbling stomach. His plan to cut down on food wasn't really happening any more, but he didn't feel as bloated as he had done three weeks back.

Seriously, when this was done he was getting the biggest pizza New York had to offer on the way home.

Bucky had a leisurely shower late afternoon. He'd shaved two days ago, timing it so his stubble would grow in enough to emphasise his jawline, help give his face some shape. Bucky knew his face was looking a bit rounder these days.

Hair down tonight, he decided; it'd frame his face more. He'd washed it last night so it'd be clean but with a certain amount of bedhead to it. He gave it a brush, and snapped a black hair tie on his wrist in case he needed it later.

Now he just had to get dressed.

And definitely leave the jeans until last.

Bucky had cleaned up an old pair of black boots he had, and dusted off his leather jacket. At least the jacket still fit, if he left it open. Bucky tossed it on the bed and went to choose a t-shirt.

Button downs were out of the question, none of the ones he owned would close over his stomach. He pulled possible tops off hangers, and rifled through some older button downs. He hadn't worn any for years, and most of them had been work shirts, so they weren't anything exciting. Bucky supposed he should go back to an office job at some point, back to a higher pay grade, but they just seemed to be a whole other world of stress. At least with the old folks, Bucky's presence was actually appreciated.

Anyway. No button downs. It'd have to be a t-shirt. “Black, or black?” he muttered to himself, holding up two different black t-shirts.

When there was a lot of black to choose from, it came down to _how_ black. He tried them on. One t-shirt rode up and sat awkwardly on Bucky's podge of a tummy. _No way._ He tossed that one back in the closet.

The newer ones he'd bought were too baggy, but it was either that or have people notice his rounded belly.

Bucky deliberated.

Maybe they all had guts too? These people were bound to be the same age as him. They'd understand.

Bucky chose a tee that had turned up sleeves on the biceps, and his arms at least still looked good. All that hoisting and lifting at work helped.

The t-shirt was fitted but not too tight. People wouldn't see his belly bulge unless he stood side on to them.

Time was getting on. Bucky had to make a move. He got undressed again and messed around in the bathroom looking for deodorant, delaying himself. At least Clint was at work so he didn't see Bucky flailing back and forth in his underwear.

Deodorant applied, Bucky put on his clothes; jeans, boots, t-shirt, an old black hoodie, his leather jacket, and he grabbed his red scarf and black woolly hat, because it was December and it was cold.

He took his wallet, keys, and had one final nervous moment in the hallway before gathering his courage enough to leave.

 

At the bar, Bucky knocked back a shot of bourbon. T'Challa was seated next to him. They'd agreed to meet at a different bar, near the party venue, beforehand. This was a crowded little hole in the wall, and Bucky remembered how much he hated busy bars on Friday nights. The noise and the jostling made him more anxious.

He indicated to the bartender for another shot. Bucky needed to relax, and fast. He'd just have these two shots, no more. Just so he'd have the courage to walk up the block, go to this party and look Steve Rogers in the eye. That was all he needed to do. Steve had been his best friend once, for pity's sake, so why was he scared stiff?

T'Challa was calmly drinking a beer. “Nervous?” he asked, leaning in close to be heard above the noise.

“No,” Bucky lied, and threw back shot number two.

“Hmm.” T'Challa sounded amused. Bucky couldn't even look at him, and T'Challa looked incredible tonight. Bucky had flat out stared when he'd spotted him earlier. T'Challa always looked sharp, and he was in peak condition physically, but tonight he looked exceptional. He wore tight charcoal pants with boots, and a soft gray Henley that just worked so well on him. Bucky thought he looked good enough to eat, and definitely too good to be Bucky's date.

What had he been thinking? Going out and pretending to be a normal person? _What the fuck..._

T'Challa leaned close again. “Remind me who is getting married?”

Bucky swallowed. “Steve,” he said, voice hoarse. “We... we met at school. Grew up together.”

“Hmm. High school?”

“Before that.”

“And you went to college together?”

“No, we... we went to different colleges,” Bucky said. “I only saw him a few times after, and that was years ago.”

More than ten years.

T'Challa was watching him closely. “And you dated?”

Bucky shook his head automatically. They'd never been official, him and Steve, it just wasn't common back then. What they'd had was something to be kept on the down low, and they'd both done that without even needing to discuss it. That was just how it was.

“Involved?” T'Challa pressed.

 _Fuck_. Bucky's eyes flicked around as he panicked. T'Challa moved his beer on the bar, and Bucky focused on the hand holding the beer bottle, the big strong hand that'd choked the breath out of him not a couple days before.

Should he lie about him and Steve? Had he already let it slip when he'd been stoned that time? _Loose lips, Barnes._

What would T'Challa do? Bucky hadn't thought he'd care. He took a deep breath, and said lowly, “You can't bring it up, T'Challa. Not to Steve, not to his friends. For all they know, Steve is straight, and I'm not going to wreck that for him.”

“Of course not.” T'Challa sounded indignant. “I would do no such thing.”

Bucky was relieved. The more he discovered about T'Challa, Bucky suspected he was a pretty decent guy. Kinks aside, of course.

Shame he was leaving.

“Thanks,” Bucky choked out.

T'Challa passed his beer over, and Bucky took a small sip. “And why are we going?”

Bucky looked at him, puzzled. “I was invited. The best man said to come. He said I could bring a guest, he...”

T'Challa put a hand on Bucky's arm to stop his rambling. “Yes, yes. But what is your objective, James? Remind me. I was high when you told me.”

“Oh.” Bucky flushed hot. “I, uh... well...”

T'Challa observed him, and Bucky looked away, shy.

“You want to make him jealous,” T'Challa said.

“Well, not...” Bucky sighed. _Ugh_ , how did he get himself into these messes. “Not exactly. I mean, he's straight now, or whatever. But I want him to think... I mean, I want him to notice me, I guess. That's all.”

T'Challa had a mischievous grin in place when Bucky looked at him. “That, James, will be easy enough.”

 

~ ~ ~

 

When Bucky couldn't delay any longer, they donned their jackets again and headed back out into the cold. It was odd, but kinda nice walking along the streets in the evening with T'Challa. Kinda like they really were a couple on their way to do couple things.

Bucky huddled into his jacket and scarf, hands stuffed into pockets lest he do something reckless like link his arm with T'Challa's.

They approached the street the venue was on, Bucky checking Google maps for the address. It was a bar slash restaurant, Italian looking, Bucky thought, as they stopped outside it. A glance through the glass windows showed diners inside the cosy warmth, and further in the bar area looked pretty busy.

Bucky's stomach dropped. He hated socialising in public places. He just really hated it.

“Come on.” T'Challa put a hand on Bucky's lower back and gently but firmly ushered him through the door. They stepped into warmth, light, and music.

As they waited at the small plinth for the absent maître de, T'Challa took charge of Bucky's accessories, tugging on his scarf and instructing, “Remove your hat.”

Bucky did, and as T'Challa took it, Bucky ran his fingers through his hair to smooth it out. T'Challa held onto Bucky's hat and scarf, not that Bucky really registered it because he was skimming the area for Steve Rogers.

The maître de appeared and greeted them. “Table for two?”

When Bucky was slow to respond, T'Challa nudged him. “Oh, uh. The party for Steve? Steve Rogers?”

“Oh, sure! Would you like me to take your jackets first?”

“Thank you,” T'Challa said, already handing over Bucky's scarf and hat, then shrugging out of his own jacket.

Bucky gave her his jacket and hoodie.

“I'll have all these put together,” she said, passing the coats off to a member of staff. “If you'd like to follow me.”

They were led through the dining area, past the bar and round a corner to an alcove that served almost as another room. It was darker there, with a slow disco ball rotating on the ceiling, and different music playing. There were booth seats lining the wall, but the polished wood floor was full of people mingling.

It was all dudes, and Bucky assumed they were either really straight, or still sober because none of them were dancing yet, just standing around holding their drinks.

A man came up to greet them, as the maître de dropped them off. “Hi,” the man flashed a smile with an adorable gap. “I'm Sam, Sam Wilson.” He offered his hand. “You must be James?”

“Hi,” Bucky managed, shaking the guy's hand. “Um, I brought... This is T'Challa.”

Sam smiled and they shook hands too. “Great to meet y'all. Thanks for coming down. We did have some h'orderves and shit going around but it may have been eaten already.”

“It's cool,” Bucky said. And oh, did that mean it was just drinking and mingling in this small disco room? “No strippers?”

Sam laughed. “None that I planned, man. I think Steve would pass out from embarrassment if that happened.”

Beside him, T'Challa huffed a laugh.

Bucky felt his face flush, but it was dark so hopefully no one noticed. “We'll, uh, just...” He gestured back at the main bar. “Go get a drink, then.”

“No need.” Sam pointed over to the back, where a mini bar with its own bartender was set up. “We got a big supply all to ourselves, courtesy of Tony.”

“Uh, wow. Okay.” Maybe Bucky could afford tonight after all.

“Speaking of,” Sam turned to look across the floor, “come say hi to Steve, before him and Tony get into another heated debate on politics and kill the buzz I got going.”

Bucky smiled to himself. _Oh, Steve. Never change, pal._

Sam led them over to a small group, where a diminutive brunet man in an expensive suit was having an intense discussion with a tall Adonis of a blond.

“Steve!” Sam shouted over the music as they approached. The blond turned, and as the light hit his profile, Bucky's heart skipped a beat.

Oh, he thought.

The Adonis was Steve. He was so much taller than Bucky remembered, and _ripped_. His shoulders were obscenely broad, and his sculpted arms looked amazing in the tight blue shirt he wore, sleeves pushed up to the elbows to display equally impressive forearms.

Bucky had to remind himself to breathe. Steve was staring at him, like he too was in shock. He took a step forward. “Bucky?”

“Hey, Steve.” Bucky smiled, hoped he didn't look as nervous as he felt.

Steve stared, then suddenly he launched forward, flinging his arms out. Bucky found himself squashed in a very firm and fierce hug, grunting in surprise.

“Bucky!” Steve released him just enough to hold him at arm's length, grinning broadly. “I can't believe you're here!”

“Yeah!” Bucky was relieved Steve seemed pleased to see him. Before he could say anything more, Steve swooped in again, arms circling Bucky's middle and hoisting him up. “No–!” Bucky grunted again as Steve lifted him into a bear hug, his feet pulled from the floor. Bucky held onto Steve and thumped him on his hard, solid shoulder. “Quit it!”

Steve spun him round before setting him down, and he was clearly amused. “What's that?” Steve leaned close to say over the music. “You don't _like_ being picked up? Kinda annoying, ain't it?”

Bucky glared at him. “I'm a grown ass man. Don't do that again.”

“Or what?” Steve crowded into him, nudging his very hard and perfect upper body into Bucky. “I got, like, a _million_ headlocks and noogies to pay you back for, Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky flushed at the thought of his face being crushed by Steve's bulging biceps. What reality had he woken up in?

“A'right, a'right!” Sam stepped in, hands on Steve to hold him back. “I knew you were drunk, Rogers. Water for one hour.”

Bucky burst out laughing, especially at the look Steve shot Sam.

“I'm fine,” Steve insisted.

“Water. And don't manhandle your guests.” Sam gave him a no nonsense look.

“Yeah. Uncle.” Bucky held up his hands in surrender. “You win, infinity.”

Steve looked at him fondly, and moved like he wanted to hug Bucky again, but a hand on Bucky's shoulder turned him away. T'Challa leaned in, said to Bucky's ear, “What do you want to drink? I'll get it for you.”

Bucky blinked, surprised and confused. Didn't he realise he was interrupting? But T'Challa was ignoring Steve, focused entirely on Bucky. “I, uh... don't mind,” Bucky told him.

T'Challa leaned so close that for a split second Bucky thought he was about to get kissed. “Bourbon? Or beer?”

“Uh...” Bucky licked his lips. “Bourbon. Thanks.”

T'Challa smiled at him, then slid away.

_Okay, that was weird._

When Bucky turned back to Sam and Steve –and Steve's friends– he was surprised to find most of them watching him. Steve's face had gone blank.

Bucky's stomach dropped again. Had they made a mistake being so... open? “Uh...” Bucky gestured to T'Challa's retreating form. “Sam said I could... bring a guest.”

“That I did,” Sam agreed, smiling wide.

Steve glanced at Sam, then looked at Bucky, his expression unreadable. “Are you... like, _together_?”

“Um...” Bucky looked around quickly, assessing the situation to see just how many of Steve's friends were observing this exchange. Hopefully they couldn't hear all that was being said, but they'd certainly seen it. “Will we get thrown out if I say yes?”

“What?” Sam shook his head. “No way. Yo, Riley!” He called behind him. “Get yo' ass over here.”

Bucky darted a look at Steve, but he'd looked away from Bucky.

When Riley –a _guy_ – appeared at Sam's side and leaned into him with a smile, Bucky understood. He smiled at them as Sam put an arm around Riley.

“Riley, meet Steve's friend, James. Or, what was it...?”

“James is–” Fine, Bucky had been about to say, except Steve butted in.

“ _Bucky_ ,” he said, finally looking Bucky in the eye again. He smiled. “You're stuck with that name forever.”

Bucky shrugged. “I don't mind.”

T'Challa returned, handing Bucky a glass of whiskey, then stood at Bucky's side like...

Like they were a couple.

Oh, Bucky thought, catching on. _Clever_.

“T'Challa,” he said, extending a hand to Steve. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Steve Rogers,” Steve said primly, shaking T'Challa's hand. Bucky pressed his lips together to keep him from smiling.

_Oh, Steve._

Some things never changed. Steve would go all rigid and over-polite when he either didn't know someone or didn't like them.

T'Challa seemed unfazed, and introduced himself to Sam and Riley next.

The man in the suit that'd been watching so far, inserted himself in to shake Bucky's hand. “Tony. Tony Stark. How do you do. Like the look, very quintessential bad boy. Had no idea Steve knew anybody interesting. Well, aside from me, that is.”

Steve flat out glared at the man. “Tony,” he said in warning.

“Oh, lighten up, Steve,” Tony told him, but he did back off a little. “The more sour you are, the more strippers I order.”

“No!” Steve squared up to Tony with a furious look. “I told you, if you pull a stunt like that, I'm going home!”

“Steve, he's joking,” Sam placated him, but added over his shoulder at Tony, “Aren't you, Tony?”

“Of course!” Tony laughed. “Only a jest. Lighten up, Rogers.” He pulled out his phone and made to step away. “Now I just have to make a quick and totally unrelated phone call. TTFN.”

“You had better be joking, man.” Sam shook his head. “So, Bucky? We been Facebook friends a few months now, but I still don't know what it is you do.”

“Oh.” Bucky smiled, but inwardly cursed all his life choices. “Nothing too exciting right now. How about you?”

“I'm a therapist,” Sam said, thankfully taking the hint. “Riley here is a pilot, and Steve...”

Steve looked a little bashful, which was endearing on him, especially at his size.

“Yeah, what do you do?” Bucky asked.

“I'm a lecturer at NYU,” Steve said, to the floor.

Bucky's mouth dropped open. “No way! Shit. Actually, _yes_ way! That is totally you. And after all those times you got me into trouble in class, I hope all your students are a huge pain in _your_ ass now, Steve Rogers.”

“Me?” Steve scoffed at him. “I was the one trying to pay attention while you talked, you jerk.”

“Think you need your memory checked, pal.”

“Think you need your jerk face checked.”

They laughed at that. Bucky hadn't felt this happy in a long time.

Beside them, Sam asked T'Challa, “And what do you do? Bucky didn't say.”

Bucky looked over in panic. He'd almost forgotten T'Challa was even there, let alone what he actually did for a living. Bucky had _not_ thought this plan through at all.

Bucky's date only smiled, enigmatic. “Family business. I am a manager, to put it simply.”

 _Huh_.

Bucky was taken aback.

“How did you two...?” Steve trailed off awkwardly, as Bucky flushed scarlet.

Hopefully the dark and disco lights would disguise it.

“We met at the gym,” T'Challa said, which was the truth, but Bucky flushed harder all the same.

_Oh, boy._

“Really?” Steve nodded with interest, giving T'Challa an oddly intense look.

Sam must've noticed too, as he side-eyed Steve. And T'Challa certainly seemed to rise to the bait. “James was hogging the bench press. I approached him. We... exchanged words, and one thing led to another.” T'Challa reached out and placed a hand at the small of Bucky's back. “Right, James?”

Bucky didn't understand how he was in the middle of this suddenly awkward situation. “Yeah,” he said, a tense smile for everyone else's benefit. He willed T'Challa to stop the story there.. No one needed to hear about their casual sex life.

Maybe this had been a mistake. Steve seemed pissed. Bucky hoped it wasn't any latent homophobia seeping out. But then... Sam and Riley? They were a couple. So it couldn't make sense that Steve was okay with them, but not with anyone else.

Tony leaned back in. “I've cancelled the stripper,” he said jovially, slicing through the tension with ease.

Bucky could've kissed him.

“And Bruce is itching to dance,” Tony added.

“No, I'm really not,” said a man in a purple shirt.

“Absolutely itching,” Tony reiterated, brandishing his phone again. “Can I do the remote DJ thing now?”

Steve and Sam exchanged a look, while Bucky watched, and then Steve said, “Just normal stuff, okay, Tony?”

“No dubstep?” Tony asked.

“No.”

Sam turned to Bucky. “Any recs to get Steve dancing?”

Bucky perked immediately. His time had come. “Actually,” he pulled his phone from his tight pocket. “I have some playlists Steve will love.” A few of them were backed up on his phone.

“Is it your Backstreet Boys greatest hits CD?” Steve folded his arms, and fuck if his bulging biceps weren't distracting.

“Screw you, Rogers, you borrowed that CD plenty.” Laughing, Bucky brought up one of his favorite morning playlists, and went to hand the phone to Tony.

Tony examined the playlist, and it was only when he fiddled around on the phone and said, “So, which playlist is it? The _Bedroom_ one?” with a sly grin, that Bucky realised what a troublemaker he was.

“What? No,” Bucky said, lunging for his phone. “It was already on the right one.”

“Oh, it was?” Tony feigned innocence. “My bad, bad boy. Maybe you can share the bedroom one with us later.”

Bucky was mortified, especially in front of Steve and everyone else. But Steve, true to his nature, was already stepping in. “Tony,” he said, frowning hard.

“Okay, okay.” Tony was still smiling. “Back to the mundanely titled 'good morning' playlist.” Tony did something on his own phone, and the music on the speakers cut out, replaced by the opening beats of Mel and Kim from Bucky's playlist.

Steve's eyes widened comically. “Is this...?”

Bucky smiled back at him. The vocals started as Sam said, “Hey, I remember this,” and Steve raised his arms in time for the chorus. “We ain't ever gonna be respectable!” he shouted, surprising his friends. Bucky laughed, because seriously, had they not seen Steve get enthused over a song before?

Steve clapped his hands once and broke into the dance from the music video. Bucky should know, they'd practised enough times in front of the TV as kids, arguing over which arm move went where. And seeing buff adult Steve dancing now? That was a whole different experience.

Bucky stared. His mouth felt dry. Just... _nngh, help_ , he thought.

But Steve wasn't content with him just watching. “C'mon, Buck!” He grabbed Bucky's hands and forced him into moving, making him do the quick arm placement. “Take or leave us,” he sang at Bucky, terribly, but all enthusiasm.

Bucky let Steve move his hands for him and went along with the dancing. Why not? It was Steve's party.

“I loved this song so much!” Steve shouted over the music. He came in closer to say, “All I think of when I hear this, is you dancing around like a dork and hogging the microphone.”

Bucky stilled with Steve so close. His mind whirred, distracted by Steve's proximity and the scent of his cologne, until he remembered what microphone Steve meant. “Oh!” He laughed. “That echo thing?”

“Yeah, and you always hogged it!”

“No, I didn't!” Bucky elbowed him. “First of all, it was _my_ microphone. Second of all–”

“Second of all, nothing!” Steve started nudging him again. “You just enjoyed showing off.”

“Hey, most times you couldn't breathe, let alone sing,” Bucky pointed out. His eyes flicked down to Steve's chest. “Do you... still...?”

“Get asthma? No, it cleared up.”

“Well... good.” Bucky took a deliberate step back. “Now you can honk along to all the songs you like in your awful singing voice.”

“Jerk.”

“Punk.”

They'd bickered through the short song, but when Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince started, Steve was ecstatic. “Oh, man! Buck, this is amazing.”

Tony, who was standing to the side with both his phone and Bucky's, was giving them an odd look.

Bucky ducked his head, feeling self conscious again. He hadn't meant to come in and... accost Steve or anything, or make a scene. He glanced at Sam and Riley, who were also watching but seemed to be enjoying themselves. Even T'Challa, when Bucky looked to him, was sipping his beer with a smile firmly in place.

That's when Tony interrupted by changing the music, saying, “I'm dying to know what's on the bedroom one.”

Bucky went stiff with terror, and as Aaliyah started up, and Steve glanced at Tony, Bucky flushed hard and looked at the floor.

_Kill me now._

Steve turned back to him and there was a long awkward moment of just... standing there, with a sexy R'n'B song filling the air.

Thankfully, Sam stepped in. “Want me to get him to change it?”

Tony must've heard, as he quickly replied, “Change it?” And fiddled with his phone, skipping the song. _Pony_ by Ginuwine started playing, and Bucky was mortified.

Steve stared at him. Bucky stared back.

“Is this...?”

“Ugh, shut up.”

Steve laughed, although he seemed nervous. “Shit, I remember your face when we first saw the video.”

Yep, Bucky was officially the most mortified he'd ever been.

“What?” he stalled, at the same time Riley asked, “What was his face like?”

Steve's grin was a shit eating one. “It was like...” He changed his expression to one of total shock.

Bucky's face burned hot. “No, it wasn't.”

“Was.” Steve insisted. “You went dead quiet and stared at that guy's abs when he did the stomach roll thing.”

Sam and Riley found this very funny. Bucky was about to fall back on old habits and grab Steve in a headlock to shut him up, over six foot or not, but before he could move, an arm slid around his waist.

T'Challa drew Bucky against him, bending his head to say into his ear, “You never play this for me.”

Bucky went pliant in surprise, melded against T'Challa's body. “I... it's not really...” It was sort of a joke playlist, Bucky wanted to explain, something he'd never had the balls to share. He never felt confident enough to lay on sexy tunes like that, not with anyone else. It was more a 'private time alone in the bedroom' sort of playlist.

The ground could swallow him anytime now, he thought.

“Maybe we can play it later,” T'Challa said lowly, and Bucky was so blind-sided right now.

“Um...” he said, because what was T'Challa doing? Was this part of his 'charm the guests' act, or was he expecting Bucky to put out tonight?

T'Challa pressed himself into Bucky and rocked gently in time with the beat. Oh, Bucky thought, as his dick took an interest.

There was a tense moment where Bucky thought he was going to be in a real pickle, until Steve faced Tony and ordered, “Tony, that's enough. Give Bucky his phone back and play something else.”

“But he has a Spice Girls playlist!” Tony crowed.

T'Challa released Bucky with a laugh, and then the Spice Girls were playing and everyone was laughing. Possibly at Bucky, but oh well.

“You have to do the dancing, Buck!” Steve dragged him back into the fray. “It was your favorite part.”

Bucky tried to squirm away, but he was grinning. He was quietly thrilled at the attention from Steve.

A tray of shots appeared, and Sam handed them out. Bucky took one gladly. “Not you, Steve,” Sam tried to stop him, but Steve had downed one already.

Steve still wanted Bucky to dance, and Bucky said no, but it was only when Tony leaned in to plead, “Go on, champ. I've never seen him this excited, like, _ever_.”

Bucky's heart thumped. “I'll dance if Steve does.”

Steve groaned, but his friends cajoled him into it. And Bucky found himself dancing with his childhood best friend and first love to the same pop songs they'd jumped around to at home, with Sam, Riley, and even Tony joining in.

Bucky thought he'd have the image of adult Steve shimmying to _Spice Up Your Life_ burned into his memory forever.

The playlist kept them busy on the dancefloor, and the shots kept coming. Bucky hadn't intended to drink so much, but it sure made the whole thing easier. Liquid courage.

It was all going well until _Mama_ came on, and Steve stopped for a beat, then leaned into Bucky. “I played this for my mom in the hospital,” he said, leaning drunkenly into Bucky and swaying.

Bucky steadied Steve with his hands, and maybe Steve mistook it for a hug, as the next thing he did was wrap his big arms around Bucky and hang on tight, face pressed into Bucky's neck and hair. He was still swaying to the music, almost like they were slow dancing.

“I miss her, Buck,” Steve said thickly, holding Bucky tight. “I miss her so much.”

Realisation seeped into Bucky like ice. “I... Shit, Steve.” He held him tighter. “I had no idea. I'm so sorry.”

“S'okay,” Steve said with a sniff, burying his face on Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky had no idea what to do. It wasn't really his place to look after Steve any more, but no one else had cottoned on and switched the music yet, so he motioned with a hand to Steve's friends to cut the song.

Tony swifty changed the music to something else. Steve still clung to Bucky.

“It's okay,” Bucky told him, even though that was such a trite thing to say.

“I miss her,” Steve mumbled, the vibration of his voice going through Bucky.

“I know, pal.” Bucky rocked him gently. “I know.”

The awkward hug-cum-slow-dance went on for an eternity –maybe two songs– and was over far too quickly. Sam intervened with a pat on the back for Steve, and a bowl of salty snacks shoved under their noses.

“Steve, man.” Sam kept his hand on Steve's shoulder. “Do you want to start eating? What about I order some nice greasy food from the bar? They said they'll bring it over.”

Steve nodded slowly, shovelling chips into his mouth and chewing with his eyes half closed.

Aiming for levity, Bucky said, “Past your bedtime, Rogers.” That'd always irked Steve when they were kids, because he'd always gotten sleepy first.

“Shaddup,” Steve told him. “I want food.”

“Food and coffee, coming up.” Sam patted Steve once more, before turning away to speak to Riley.

T'Challa took Bucky's hand to get his attention, pulling him aside. “What's up?” Bucky asked, worried that T'Challa was going to tell him to stop trying to flirt with the bachelor already.

“We should get going.” T'Challa looked into his eyes, his gaze half lidded. He pulled Bucky close, held onto him possessively.

Bucky hadn't expected it. He didn't know what to do, and he went still. “Uh, but... what time is it?”

“Believe me,” T'Challa took Bucky's chin in his thumb and forefinger as he looked at him, “this is the best time to leave.” He leaned in, angled his face and kissed Bucky on the mouth.

Bucky was stunned. They had never kissed before. Not that it wasn't nice, just unexpected.

T'Challa's other hand slid down to Bucky's ass and into his back pocket, pulling his hips in so their bodies slotted together. Bucky was drunk and horny and immediately interested.

“Okay,” he breathed, when the kiss ended.

T'Challa smiled at him. “Then let us say goodbye.”

 

The goodbye was awkward as fuck. Steve looked crestfallen when Bucky told him he had to go. He tried to convince them to stay, but Sam held him back. “Steve. Steve, man. It's cool. You need to eat, mingle a bit more, and quite possibly nap. There's lots of other guests who'd like to speak to you before you pass out.”

Steve had a very sour expression, especially when T'Challa said a pleasant goodbye.

Bucky hadn't seen the sour Steve face for such a long time, and it hadn't changed much. He's just drunk, he told himself. Maybe he could talk to Steve another time, and say...

What? Ask him about his fiancée? _Forget it_. Bucky wasn't that much of a masochist.

They said goodbye to Sam, Riley, and Tony –who handed Bucky's phone back with a wink and a grin– the only people they'd spoken to, then T'Challa was whisking Bucky away.

It was only when they got outside that Bucky realised how drunk he actually was, and how difficult walking had become. T'Challa hailed a cab, and carefully inserted Bucky inside it, and buckled him in.

He took Bucky home, paid for the cab, and walked him to his apartment.

“Are you comin' up wi' me?” Bucky asked groggily, blinking his eyes against the harsh light of the hall.

T'Challa chuckled. “Yes,” he said simply. He helped Bucky with the key code, then up the stairs and through his door.

They were in luck. Clint wasn't in.

Bucky wasn't sure how to proceed, but he made a beeline for the bathroom to empty his bladder first.

Once the tight jeans were undone, Bucky breathed loudly in relief. He didn't bother to zip them again when he'd finished, washed up, and came back out. T'Challa noticed, but didn't say anything. He led Bucky to his room, helped him take off his boots, and got him on his bed.

Then, he sat on the edge and looked at Bucky for a moment.

Bucky blinked up at him. “Thank you.”

T'Challa nodded in reply.

Tonight had been an experience, Bucky thought. His eyelids were drooping. T'Challa pulled the covers over Bucky. “Goodbye, James. Look after yourself.”

Bucky grunted lightly. “Y'no' stayin'?”

“You are drunk,” T'Challa stated. He rose from the bed, his lips quirking in a half smile. “It's been fun. Stay in touch.”

Oh, Bucky thought, realising what this meant. Before his eyes closed he managed to say a breathy, “Bye,” as T'Challa left.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Steve had a hangover. He shouldn't have mixed his drinks. His head throbbed, and his stomach lurched. He lay on Sam's couch burrowed into blankets and had no intention of moving, ever.

At least it was the weekend. Steve didn't have to work until Monday, and didn't have to think about going home to Sharon until tomorrow. He was just going to close his eyes and go back to sleep.

It seemed like only a moment later someone started clattering about in the kitchen area right near him, with Marvin Gaye playing.

Sam, then.

Steve groaned, alerting Sam to his discomfort at any noise right now.

“Yo. You want breakfast?” Sam called over.

Steve groaned, this time with interest. He gathered his blankets around him and began the struggle to sit upright.

Sam chuckled from the kitchen. “I don't know who's worse this morning, you or Riley.”

He cooked up a greasy breakfast, and by the time Steve shuffled over to the small table, Sam was plating it up. Steve's stomach rumbled, a little more normally this time.

“Thank you, Sam,” he murmured gratefully, picking up a fork and leaning into the smells of fried goodness rising on his plate.

“No problem,” Sam said with no small amount of amusement. “What is the best man for after all?”

Steve tried for a sleepy smile. He didn't respond because his brain was turning over far too slowly for conversation.

Sam brewed coffee, and thunked down a large mug in front of Steve.

They were halfway through eating before Riley even surfaced, shuffling into the room looking half asleep and still in pyjamas.

“Good afternoon,” Sam joked, getting up to greet his boyfriend.

Steve looked down at his breakfast. He'd always been a bit shy about seeing other people's PDA's; more so with men, and this morning Steve felt particularly shy about it.

 _You never greet Sharon like that,_ a critical voice needled at him. Steve elected to ignore it. Brush it under the rug along with everything else.

Sam gave Riley a plate of breakfast and the three of them ate together.

“Can I just say, looking at the two of you,” Sam teased, “I do not regret having a sober night at all.”

“Shut up,” Riley told him.

Sam grinned. “Make me.”

And with that, they were gazing into each other's eyes again. Steve examined his coffee. Maybe staying the whole weekend would be too much, he thought. It wasn't like he had anything against couples but... something about being an awkward observer in such intimate moments made Steve so uncomfortable, and so aware of how his relationship didn't measure up.

“Yeah, I'll make you,” Riley said, which made no sense to Steve, and before things got too much, he asked, “Would you mind if I take a quick shower?”

“Sure, man,” Sam said. “Clean towels in the bathroom. Use what you need.”

“Thanks.” Steve got to his feet, tried to unwrap his cocoon of blankets and fold them back up. He struggled.

Sam laughed at him. “Steve. Go shower, I'll fold these.”

Steve did as he was told and went for his shower. Sam and Riley had a nice bathroom; like the rest of their apartment it was minimalist but had a lived in feel. Nice clear spaces that Steve could put his wash-bag on without fear of knocking anything over.

At home, any free surface was covered with fancy knick-knacks or things that served no purpose except to get in the way and gather dust. Sharon thought they looked good, but too much clutter aggravated Steve's need to be tidy and have order. He longed for minimalist living and clean surfaces.

He got in the shower and tried not to think about home. Instead he thought about Bucky Barnes and his long dark hair, how Steve had itched to touch and run his fingers through it. He thought of Bucky and how he'd looked in those skintight black clothes, and how solid and warm he was to hold in his arms. He remembered how weird it'd felt that he'd been able to look Bucky in the eye because they were the same height now, and how at the same time it wasn't weird at all, it felt like coming home.

Before Steve thought about Bucky _too_ much, he turned the water to a cooler temperature, because there was no way he'd jerk off in someone else's shower. That was just rude.

Steve came out of the bathroom, dressed in clean pants and a t-shirt from his overnight bag (he'd come prepared) to find Sam and Riley had migrated to the couch with more coffee.

There was a mug waiting for him, and Steve took it with a thanks, sitting down in the easy chair across from them.

The TV had some corny Christmas movie on. Steve cringed inwardly.

“So!” Sam turned a grin Steve's way. “Did you enjoy your party?”

“Yeah, it was great. Thanks,” Steve said, perhaps a touch too subdued, but he could blame the hangover.

“Nice to see so many faces,” Sam said.

“Yeah.”

“You never mentioned you knew any hot gay men,” Riley said, as Sam shot him a look of surprise.

Steve's face burned, but he willed himself to act normal. “What's that got to do with anything?” And wow, okay, that didn't sound defensive _at all._ Way to act normal.

“Because that's what friends do.” Riley waggled his eyebrows in comedic fashion.

“I don't see why it matters,” Steve insisted.

Sam cleared his throat pointedly, but Riley was already saying, “So we can hit on them, of course! I mean, _hello_. Did you see them?”

“Riley.” Sam nudged him.

Steve was stunned. “But... they're in a relationship,” he pointed out. “ _You're_ in a relationship.”

“Yeah, an open relationship.” Riley shrugged like it was a no brainer. “They could be too. Most gay couples are.”

Sam put a hand on Riley's leg. “Riley. Steve doesn't need to hear about our relationship or other people's. Let's change the subject.”

Steve wasn't even listening, his mind had flashed back to Bucky and his... date, his _..._ his boyfriend?

“Why would he bring a date anyway?” Steve said aloud, not really thinking. Or, why come at all if they only planned to stay a short time? Steve didn't understand. That other guy had stepped in and... And kissed Bucky in public, like it was nothing at all. Like they did it all the time.

Just... _kissed_ him.

Steve honestly hadn't expected to be so shocked from seeing that, but he was.

“I said he could,” Sam was saying, as Steve tuned back in.

“Huh? Said he could what?”

“Bring a date,” Sam clarified. “I thought if he didn't know anyone, it'd be cool. I technically said, a plus one. You didn't tell me the dude was _gay_.”

Steve's skin prickled. “He's bi,” he corrected. “Or, he was when...” Embarrassed, he stopped himself. Bucky had been bi back then, when they'd started growing apart. At their different colleges, Steve had met Peggy, and when he'd told Bucky about her, Bucky had simply shrugged and said he'd met someone too.

Like it was no big deal.

Steve had never asked who, he couldn't bear to know. Couldn't bear the thought of someone else with Bucky, even though he had expected it to happen for a long time.

Not that Steve hadn't seen Bucky with other people before, usually it was girls, but it was _different_ when they lived close by, in each other's pockets. Always seeing each other at school, always sleeping over. Steve had felt like Bucky was still his.

“Hot couple, though,” Riley started up again, as Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Did you see his suave date get all possessive and shit right before they left? Really turned me on.”

“Aaand that's the end of that topic,” Sam announced. “Let's go get brunch. I said we'd meet Tony and Bruce.”

“I mean, it's not surprising,” Riley went on, “Steve was basically slow dancing with the guy's fella right in front of him.”

Steve's hackles rose, and he turned to Riley. “Bucky and I grew up together. He's like my brother.”

“That you slow danced with,” Riley countered. “And couldn't keep away from, and ignored everyone else the entire time he was there.”

“I... what?” Steve couldn't remember that. _Shit_.

Sam rubbed a hand over his face. “You were mighty drunk, Steve. If you weren't arguing with Tony, you were... _manhandling_ your pal on the dancefloor, while his partner watched.”

Steve flushed hot, but he didn't curl up in his seat and die of embarrassment like he wanted to, he put a brave face on and said, “Sounds like I have some apologies to make.”

“Hey, what are bachelor parties for?” Sam laughed.

 

~ ~ ~

 

14:13 Unknown number:

Sam said you're beating yourself up about being drunk? LOL @ you

 

14:14 Unknown number:

This is Bucky btw

 

14:20 Steve:

Yes pretty much! I'm real sorry if I was annoying. It was so good to see you again I think I automatically reverted back to age 12. Can I buy you overpriced coffee sometime to show you sober Steve, and how I'm an actual adult? And catch up? :)

 

14:22 Bucky:

I thought drunk Steve was fine :P but sure, that sounds good. Missed your face, even missed your crooked nose.

 

14:23 Steve:

Ur still a jerk.

 

14:23 Bucky:

:P <3

 

 

The next day was Sunday, and just before 2pm, Steve walked into the coffee shop he'd agreed to meet Bucky in. Technically he was still on his bachelor weekend, but he'd only just left Sam and Riley's with his overnight bag, and figured he'd head home after seeing Bucky.

The coffee shop was close to the station that Bucky passed on his way to work, and not too out of the way for Steve. It wasn't busy inside, and after paying for his white Americano, Steve found a nice spot in a corner tucked away, just a two seater table. He stashed his bag under the table and took off his winter coat.

The shop was warm, smelled delicious and played smooth, mellow music. Perfect for a Sunday. Steve sat watching the door, and waited. Then he fidgeted, because he was nervous. Getting out his phone, he fired off a few texts.

 

14:09 Steve:

[to: Bucky]

If you give me a heads up when you get off the train, I'll have coffee waiting for you! White, with a shot of jerk, right? :)

 

14:10 Steve:

[Group Chat: Sam, Riley]

Thank you both for letting me stay, it was good to hang out. Sorry for being drunk and hungover.

 

14:13 Steve:

[to: Sharon]

what time do you want to eat? I could get takeout omw?

 

 

Bucky responded first, and Steve smiled at the message.

14:16 Bucky:

I want a large soy latte with half a shot of hazelnut, served with 2 ice cubes in 3 different cups :P

 

14:17 Steve:

You're jk right?

 

14:17 Bucky:

Yes u dork. I'll have a regular latte. Thanks. Almost there btw.

 

14:17 Steve:

Ooh a latte.

 

14:18 Bucky:

fuq u.

 

Steve grinned, and hopped up to order Bucky's coffee. The barista smiled at him, but Steve barely registered it. He was already beaming; his bestest friend ever was meeting him for coffee. All was right with the world.

Steve had just carried the latte over to his table when Bucky came in the door, bringing a quick snap of December air with him. Steve stilled, watching Bucky look around. He was in all black again, though in slightly looser pants this time, and a big overcoat. He had on a bright red scarf and a dark woolly hat.

Steve raised a hand to wave just as Bucky spotted him, and came over.

“Hey,” he said when he reached Steve.

“Hey.” Steve lifted his arms, hoping he wasn't overstepping his mark. Thankfully Bucky came in for the hug, though it was over pretty quick in the sober light of day. Steve had never been that good at sober hugs.

“Got your latte,” Steve said, feeling nervous again.

Bucky smiled at him. “Thanks.” He sat down, and Steve sat too. He watched Bucky shed his coat, and pull off his hat. “Warm in here.” His long dark hair was a wavy mess, but it suited him. Bucky must've caught him looking, as he reached up to smooth his hair back with both hands, effectively combing it. “I know, it's a bird's nest.”

“What? No, it's...” Steve tore his eyes away from Bucky and stared at his coffee mug. “It's great, Buck. I swear I almost didn't recognise you with long hair.”

“At your party?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky laughed, just a small one, but it was warm and rich and just like Steve remembered it.

“You were kinda drunk,” Bucky pointed out.

Steve cringed. “I'm so sorry. I really am.”

“Why?” Bucky sipped his coffee. “It was your party. If you can't be drunk at your own party, when can you be?” He took another sip. “This is good coffee. How much you pay for this?”

Steve smiled. “It's not overpriced, for the quality.”

Bucky gave him a look. “Answer the question, Captain Vague.”

Steve laughed at the old nickname. “Hey, the menu is right up there.” He waved a hand at the wall. “Read for yourself.”

“I didn't bring my glasses,” Bucky said. He looked at Steve, searching his face. “You still wearing contacts?”

“No, I had Lasik.”

“What! No way.”

“Yeah, it's pretty neat actually.”

“Yeah.” Bucky was still looking at him, and his adams apple bobbed as he swallowed. Then he looked away as he added, “Still dance like a dork, by the way.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “I do not.”

“Yeah, you do.” Bucky tried to hide his grin behind his mug as he lifted it to his lips. His whole face lit up when he smiled, making his blue-gray eyes sparkle with mirth.

Steve didn't care if Bucky was laughing at him, never had cared, he'd give anything to see Bucky happy. He looked softer than he'd done in the past, less sharp edges and perfectly styled hair, and more full cheeks and soft-looking long tresses. Steve really wanted to run his fingers through his hair.

He tried to keep his head in the conversation. “I, er, took dance classes. I could give anyone a run for their money now.”

Bucky gave him a look, lowering his mug. “Oh, yeah? Classes in what? Dancing like a teacher?”

Steve laughed. “But I am a teacher.”

“All you need is one of those jackets with the patches on the elbows.”

Steve groaned. “Don't. Sharon actually got me one of those last Christmas.”

Bucky's smile faltered, and the good mood evaporated fast. Tension crept in with the sudden silence, like saying Sharon's name had broken the spell.

After an awkward moment, Bucky said, “So, getting married, huh?”

“Yeah.” Steve fiddled with his coffee cup.

“When?”

“Oh, well... not till May, actually.”

“May?” Bucky sounded surprised. “Then why are you having your bachelor party so early?”

“It was originally a February wedding,” Steve explained. “Valentine's. And Sharon said it'd be better to get the bachelor party done and out of the way, so it was already booked ages ago. Then the date changed to May...” He shrugged. “I stay out of it. Wedding planning... it's not that fun.”

Bucky was quiet a beat, then said, “Yeah, I bet.”

They lapsed into silence again. Steve found himself wrong-footed, at a loss for words with someone he used to know so well. There was almost too much to say, to ask, and it weighed on him.

“I, uh... your, um, partner,” Steve floundered, “would you tell him I'm sorry if he thought I was drunk and annoying too?”

Bucky huffed a small laugh. “I think he thought you were pretty funny.”

“Oh. Right.” Steve nodded. “Better than him being upset with me.”

“Steve, we aren't, like... It's not that serious. I wouldn't say he's my _partner_.”

“Oh.” Steve looked up, hope blooming, and saw that Bucky's cheeks were turning pink. Now Bucky was fiddling with his mug.

Steve wasn't used to seeing a shy Bucky Barnes. This was new.

He didn't know what to say.

“Well, don't tell Riley, because I think he wanted to invite you both for couples things.” Steve winced inwardly. He hadn't meant to say that. Why did he always blurt shit out when he was nervous?

Bucky looked up. “Couples things?”

“Yeah, don't worry about it.” Steve cleared his throat. “So, what do you do, exactly? You said you start work late today?”

“Yeah.” Bucky checked his phone and grunted. “I can stay another twenty minutes, maybe.”

“Oh.” Steve was sad at that. “Late start.”

“Yeah, late shift today. I'll finish between ten and eleven, assuming all goes well.”

“And what do you do?”

“Nothing exciting.” Buck finished off his coffee. “I'm a care assistant in a home.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve was surprised. That was probably the opposite line of work he'd expected Bucky to fall into. Then again, Bucky had always been everyone's big brother, always looking out for people. “How long you been doing that?”

Bucky shrugged. He seemed fidgety. “Couple years. I kinda fell into it. Got fed up with bars or security work.”

“Uh huh.” More surprises. “Didn't fancy engineering sciences after all?”

Bucky gave a wry smile. “I dropped out of college, Steve.”

“Oh...” _Shit_. “I'm sorry, Buck. I didn't mean...”

“'S okay.” Bucky smiled at him, that same old 'everything's cool and don't you worry about me' smile that Steve recognised. “Tell me what you teach the kids.”

“Oh, man.” Steve squirmed now the focus was on him again. “I wanted to do Art History and Liberal Arts, but as I'm one of the more inexperienced lecturers and have to beg for my job, I had to broaden my horizons. So now I apply to do Art History nearly every year, but usually end up doing English Lit lectures or subbing for Humanities classes if nothing else. Luckily I've just been taken on for another year with the Uni, so that's a relief.”

Bucky smiled at him fondly. Steve flushed, but smiled back.

“I can't believe you're a lecturer.”

“I know. I can't believe it either sometimes.”

“I wanna come to one.”

Steve laughed loudly. “No!”

“Yes! Why not?”

“Only if you behave.”

“Why wouldn't I?”

That made Steve snort. “Remember that time Mr. Philips got so mad at you, he threw his board eraser at your head.”

Bucky laughed. “Yeah, an' I ducked so it hit that kid behind me. What was his name?”

“Gilmore Hodge,” Steve said. “Anyway, my point being, you were a disruptive jerk in class, Buck.”

“Oh, c'mon! I was a kid. I can behave myself these days.”

Steve smiled at him. “Where's the fun in that?”

 

~ ~ ~

 

“What's got you smiling to yourself tonight?” Monty enquired, as Bucky helped him into his pyjamas.

“Oh, nothing much.” Bucky felt so chill and happy right now. “I met up with an old friend. Had a chat about the good old days.”

“Now those are my kind of chats,” Monty said with a chuckle. “What's he like?”

“My friend? Well, all grown up now. Works at NYU, getting married next year. But still a huge dork.”

“Handsome?”

Bucky bit his lip. “He's getting married.”

“Doesn't stop them being handsome,” Monty pointed out.

Bucky laughed. “Nope. Be helpful if it did.”

“Are you going to the wedding?”

That drew Bucky up short. “Um, I don't think... it's probably just a small ceremony, y'know. Can't invite everyone.”

And Bucky was used to being left out.

“Oh, well, that's a poor show,” Monty said. Bucky escorted him over to the en suite.

“Yeah. He did invite me to his bachelor party.”

“Oh, good.” Monty sounded relieved. “Good man.”

Bucky waited while Monty brushed his teeth and used the toilet, then he helped him clean up and walked him back to his bed.

“I was left off the guest list of a wedding or two,” Monty admitted, as Bucky helped him into bed.

“You?” Bucky laid on the surprise. “A gentleman with your reputation?”

Monty grinned, gummy without his front dentures in. “Oh yes,” he said, laying down so Bucky could tuck him in. “The men I'd fooled around with, at any rate. Wives didn't want me near their men, you see.”

Bucky paused in surprise, but tried to hide it. “Oh? That kinda sucks, Monty.”

The older man chuckled in response. “I was too much of a temptation and they all knew it.”

Bucky smiled at him. “You're that, all right. Now get some rest, okay?”

“I'll try,” Monty said. “Although it is rather hard when it's you taking me to bed, dear boy. If you catch my drift.”

“You're insatiable.” Bucky made to leave the room, otherwise Monty would have him there chatting all night long. He switched on the night light, and switched the main light off. “Sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight, James. Seize love when you find it, lad, no matter the consequences. Carpe diem!”

Bucky paused at the door, thrown for a moment. This wasn't the first time a resident had made dramatic declarations at random moments. At their age, they were desperate to impart all their pearls of wisdom.

“That's the spirit,” Bucky said amiably. “Night.” He shut the door, took a deep breath, and made his way to his next resident.

And definitely did not think about Steve Rogers and his dazzling smile and sky-blue eyes for a second. Nope, not one bit.

Okay, maybe a bit. Bucky was screwed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning Chapter Two:
> 
> T'Chucky scene at beginning of chapter is graphic sex with choking/breathplay and dub con elements, because Bucky has essentially been talked into and bargained into this situation. That is why it's dub-con.
> 
> He does end up enjoying it, but because of the risks involved does end up getting slapped twice to make him breathe again.
> 
> This is over-warning instead of under-warning. 
> 
> The rest of the chapter is just the bachelor party and hangovers. So, alcohol and emotions.
> 
> If i missed any tags do let me know. Stay safe. 
> 
> ~ ~ ~


	3. A Pair of Lonely Ones(Who Were Meant to be a Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suggestive texting, selfies, impromptu sleepovers and songs, heart to hearts, and overshare, starring Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is a song in An American Tail.

 

 

_What is a friend? A single soul dwelling in two bodies._

~ Aristotle

 

 

 

Bucky's Playlist

_The One I Love_ – R.E.M.

 _Outside –_ George Michael

 _Oops! ...I Did it Again_ – Britney Spears

 _The Boy is Mine_ – Brandy  & Monica

 _What is Love_ – Haddaway

 _Fly Away_ – Lenny Kravitz

 

 

 

19:05 Steve:

Does your job make you wear a nurse's outfit?

 

19:15 Bucky:

WTF Rogers.

 

19:15 Bucky:

No.

 

19:20 Steve:

Don't lie. Mom was a nurse. I know all about this.

 

19:29 Steve:

If u dont tell me I'm gonna come up there and see you.

 

19:33 Bucky:

The hell you are. Leave me alone.

 

19:34 Steve:

Buck. Cmon.

 

19:35 Steve:

Tell u what. I'll take a pic of me at work tomorrow if u send me one of you :)

 

19:37 Bucky:

ur a weirdo.

 

19:40 Bucky:

I'm not supposed to use my phone on shift. This guy is taking forever on the can tho, I STG.

 

19:41 Steve:

What guy?

 

19:41 Bucky:

One of the residents. Whatever he had for dinner is coming back tenfold.

 

19:42 Steve:

Nice.

 

19:43 Bucky:

Yes I love my job.

 

19:44 Steve:

I bet they love you.

 

19:44 Bucky:

I think some of them hate me. I'm the one who wakes them up too early or doesn't let them do things on their own.

 

19:45 Steve:

Don't take it to heart if any of em are cranky. It's not easy being old & accepting help. They're lucky to be cared for!

 

19:46 Bucky:

Yes.

 

19:47 Steve:

So send me a pic!!

 

19:47 Bucky:

You'll have to wait, punk. Duty calls.

 

19:48 Steve:

Go get em :)

 

 

Steve drummed his fingers on his desk at home, eyes drifting from the research paper he should've been reading. He'd planned to write a piece and submit it for an academic paper, with high hopes of getting academia to start taking the humanities more seriously. But he couldn't concentrate.

His phone lay near his hand, screen black and silent. He hadn't heard back from Bucky in over a half hour. Steve drummed his fingers again, and weighed up leaving his office to go get a bite to eat... or stay put.

Sharon had taken over the main living space with her wedding planning folder –the lever-arch file of stress and boredom, Steve thought– and he couldn't access the kitchen without bypassing her, and risk being dragged into making decisions.

He felt dumb hiding from his own wedding plans, but that's where he was.

He should concentrate on his paper. Steve reread the last line again. Abstract art expressionism...

His phone's light started blinking.

Steve snatched it up, opened the pictured message.

 _Oh_.

Bucky had taken a bathroom selfie in a bright, tiled room with a big mirror. Only Bucky's upper body was in frame, but he wore a light blue tunic that brought out the blue in his eyes. His long hair had been tied back, showing more of his face –wearing a long suffering look– and Steve stared and stared.

He had an actual picture of Bucky, he couldn't quite believe it.

The uniform had a little name tag that clearly read James, though it was back to front in the mirror.

Steve swallowed, feeling hot under his collar as he typed a reply.

 

20:28 Steve:

I knew it. Btw your name tag is wrong, James.

 

20:29 Bucky:

ur so funny...

 

20:29 Steve:

Yep :P

 

20:29 Steve:

How is work?

 

20:30: Bucky:

In general? Or tonight specifically?

 

20:31 Steve:

Both.

 

20:36 Bucky:

In general, tiring. Tonight, not too awful. I gotta go in a sec & rub cream onto a butt.

 

20:36 Steve:

I bet the old dames love you.

 

20:37 Bucky:

Well I mostly do old men ;P

 

20:38 Steve:

I bet they love you too!

 

20:39: Bucky

Some of them maybe. One guy said if he was younger he'd woo me. He's my fave.

 

20:40 Steve:

Wow...

 

20:41 Steve:

Don't tell him you're taken, you'll spoil his fantasies!

 

20:42: Bucky:

LOL I'm not taken, but I don't think he'd mind either way. I rly gotta go now. Later.

 

20:43 Steve:

OK. Have a good shift.

 

 

Steve put his phone down on the desk. Then he picked it back up again and re-read Bucky's last message.

_I'm not taken._

Steve stared at the words.

_I'm not taken._

He stared at the message until his screen went dark.

Huh, Steve thought. But what about that guy? Bucky's date? Was that... over? Or, was it not even a thing?

Bucky wasn't taken.

Maybe he'd just meant that he didn't do serious relationships? Maybe Bucky wasn't the sort to... commit?

Steve frowned, leaning his elbows on his desk. He wanted to ask a million questions, but... Well, Bucky was working right now.

He'd just have to talk to him, Steve decided. This was definitely something they had to talk about... finally. And this was the year he was going to do it.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Bucky was on another late Monday, so he had one more lie in and caught up on his sleep. When he finally woke up at midday, he checked his phone where he'd left it charging on the nightstand.

Three new messages.

Bucky felt popular already.

He opened his inbox, hoping the messages were from Steve.

 

10:02 Steve:

As you can see, I take my profession v seriously!!!!

 

There were two picture attachments. Bucky grinned, opening the first one. It was Steve, stood by a whiteboard, one hand raised and holding a marker like he was in the middle of teaching a class or something, but had paused to let someone snap a photo. Bucky drank in every detail, how tall and big Steve seemed now, yet still slim, especially side on. He wore a sky blue shirt that matched his eyes, rolled up to the elbows. His forearms had a dusting of hair, and there was a large watch on his left wrist. Steve wore some tan pants, the top of them visible in the picture. The brown matched the darker roots of his hair, which was carefully parted at the side and swept back neatly. It looked nice, suited him.

The second picture was a close up of the board, to show what Steve was writing. His hand was still in frame, and among all the other scrawls written, the word _Jerk_ stood out proudly.

Bucky snorted a laugh, and went back to the first picture. Steve looked real hot, in an adult teacher who wasn't aware how hot he was, kinda way.

Different to how he was at his bachelor party, in that painted on shirt and drunken overconfidence. No, teacher Steve was more like the Steve Bucky had known, with that half quirked smile and traces of awkwardness, like having a photo taken was the height of embarrassment for him.

Bucky sat up in bed and texted a reply.

 

12:15 Bucky:

This is the best thing i've ever seen

 

12:15 Bucky:

Just woke up btw

 

Bucky set his phone aside and pushed himself out of bed. He only had a couple hours spare before he had to head back into work, if he wanted to beat the rush hour and not be crammed in on the train.

When he came back from his shower, there was a message waiting for him.

 

12:25 Steve:

Good morning, then! Working late?

 

12:37 Bucky:

Yeah. Getting ready now.

 

12:37 Steve:

Have a good shift! :)

 

12:38 Bucky:

Aren't you working?

 

12:39 Steve:

I'm on my lunch :P

 

Bucky was about to type a reply, but he wasn't awake enough. He quickly took a selfie of his barely awake face, and sent it to Steve.

 

12:41 Steve:

ur hair needs a brush...

 

12:41 Bucky:

Coffee first!

 

12:50 Steve:

HOT!!

 

12:52 Steve:

Sorry! that wasn't me, my TA opened my phone and saw your pic.

 

12:58 Bucky:

LOL who's your TA?

 

12:59 Steve:

A pain in the ass named Darcy, and she said your hair looks like the mane of a majestic lion.

 

13:00 Bucky:

LOL :P tell her thanks

 

13:00 Bucky:

Don't tell me ur still on lunch

 

13:01 Steve:

No just about to start lecture. If these slow pokes ever get into their seats, that is.

 

13:02 Bucky:

LOL throw stuff at them

 

13:02 Steve:

Sometimes i'd like to!

 

13:03 Bucky:

I wanna come to a lecture

 

13:04 Steve:

What for?

 

13:04 Bucky:

To see u, a-hole.

 

13:05 Steve:

I guessed that! I meant what lecture do u want? I can text u my timetable.

 

13:06 Bucky:

LOL and they'd really let me in?

 

13:06 Steve:

I can get you a guest pass, yeah

 

13:07 Bucky:

Sweet! I got a professor at the home actually. Nice guy. Real bright.

 

13:07 Steve:

What did he do?

 

13:08 Bucky:

I'll have to ask. Multiple subjects, im sure one was ethics or philosophy. Something beard stroky.

 

13:09 Steve:

LOL I see :) TTYL. Back to the grind.

 

13:10 Bucky:

Bye :)

 

~ ~ ~

 

19:03 Steve:

Did you see your professor today?

 

19:10 Bucky:

Yeah I have regulars on my rota. He said he taught ethics, history, politics, sociology, and a bunch more. High school, then later college.

 

19:11 Steve:

Impressive!

 

19:12 Bucky:

He's real nice. You'd like him.

 

19:12 Steve:

Is he the one who wants to woo you?

 

19:14 Bucky:

LOL no! :P but he is real close to this other dude who was a biologist or something. He's grumpy AF & Jewish, & the prof is all jolly. They have a bromance going.

 

19:15 Steve:

For real?

 

19:16 Bucky:

Idk for real, but they're close. Biology dude don't like anyone else much. He's like me but older.

 

19:17 Steve:

ur not like that, Buck.

 

19:17 Bucky:

I am LOL

 

19:18 Steve:

nah :P

 

19:20 Steve:

So which one wants to woo you?

 

19:22 Bucky:

U never used to enjoy idle gossip this much, Steve Rogers :>

 

19:22 Steve:

things change LOL. Cmon im a boring 30-something with my slippers on at home. Tell me.

 

19:24 Bucky:

Only if u send me a pic of your slippers.

 

19:25 Steve:

[img attachment].jpg001

 

19:26 Bucky:

Well they're boring! I was expecting something fluffy and embarrassing.

 

19:28: Steve

Told u i was boring! Now dish :)

 

19:29 Bucky:

There's nothing to tell! He's one of the vets and he flirts with me a lot. Makes the sponge baths a bit awkward.

 

19:30 Steve:

omg. I'm laughing so hard rn

 

19:31 Bucky:

Yuck it up. Anyway I gotta run & get these old boys into their jammies.

 

19:32 Steve:

LOL ok. Have a good shift :)

 

~ ~ ~

 

December brought with it the lead up to Christmas –before all the Thanksgiving stuff was barely over– the advertising and festive decor sprung up with a vengeance all over New York.

Bucky hadn't ever dreaded Christmas before, but he was definitely leaning that way now. Unless anything drastic changed in the next three weeks, this would be the fourth year in a row he and his family had just sort of... ignored each other.

He was working anyway, so who cared? Whether rota'd on or not, Bucky usually agreed to take overtime or shift swaps to let colleagues have the holidays free. Especially anyone with young families.

Even Clint was going away over Christmas, to see his kids. It'd just be Bucky and the old people at work, with a couple other colleagues, then Bucky on his own at home.

It was fine. Things could've been a lot worse, he reasoned. But as the forced holiday cheer was repeatedly on show through advertising and cheesy movies clogging up all the TV, Bucky did start to feel a bit worn down.

The more amiable residents always asked the carers what they were doing over the holidays, who they were spending it with. Bucky found himself sort of lying by omission here and there. A lot of the residents didn't remember conversations anyway, and that meant all the small talk got repeated each day. Bucky would likely hear, “Are you looking forward to Christmas?” and “Are you visiting your loved ones?” at last a dozen times a day before December was over.

Christmas wasn't the best of times to feel lonely, which is why whenever Steve Rogers messaged him, Bucky always replied to him. It was just nice to chat to someone. Even if sometimes...

Bucky couldn't be sure, but sometimes Steve's messages seemed a bit suggestive. Like he was flirting. They chatted about anything and everything (like Michael Bay ruining their childhoods with bad movies), sent each other dumb selfies, and teased with dumb comments.

Like, Steve was always asking about Bucky's uniform, or asking who'd been flirting with him that day, which was... _okay_. It wasn't an issue, or anything. Bucky asked right back, teased Steve about being a hipster teacher and asked if anyone called him Sir.

It was fine, it was harmless. Well, mostly... Just sometimes Bucky wondered if Steve's girlfriend knew he was texting this sort of thing to... a sort of ex.

Fiancée, not girlfriend, Bucky corrected himself.

And Bucky still hadn't received an invite to the wedding. He hadn't asked either. Maybe they hadn't been sent yet? But the bachelor party had been and gone, which showed they were organised about it all.

Yeah, Bucky wasn't getting invited to any straight weddings. It was like Monty said, no one wants ex's at weddings.

Didn't stop him replying to Steve though. It wasn't like anyone else was lining up. T'Challa was in Wakanda –and the snapshots of the capital city on his Facebook page did look fucking epic– so Bucky was back to chatting to random guys on dating apps, which never really led him anywhere good.

Bucky wasn't in the mood for hook ups with anyone new, and it seemed virtually impossible to find a decent, single guy that wasn't a dick _and_ had time to meet for coffee.

Bucky's shift pattern didn't make socialising easy.

Steve had sent Bucky a timetable of his lectures over December, and said about Bucky coming along to one. Reading the lecture topics, Bucky felt out of his depth; even the least complicated topic _Literary_ _Classics 101_ made him feel... weird. As in, Steve was a fully functioning adult doing impressive adult things, and Bucky... just... wasn't.

As proud as he was that Steve was doing well, Bucky couldn't deal with the shame of being the deadbeat friend showing up to Steve's lecture. Bucky still had a lot of guilt over dropping out of college and wasting his parent's money, he didn't want to be in that environment again. Especially over Christmas.

Steve kept asking him to hang out though.

 

And he asked again on the first evening Bucky'd had off in over a week, when he was busy marathoning Richard Curtis movies in his pyjamas on the couch, currently on _Love, Actually._

Clint was doing a double at work, so he wasn't around to see Bucky being ridiculous.

 

19:15 Steve:

Ru at work?

 

19:18 Bucky:

No, thank fuq.

 

19:21 Steve:

Want to get a beer?

 

19:33 Bucky:

I'd love to but I have a hot date with my couch.

 

19:45 Steve:

A lot of images came to mind at that...! 0_0

 

19:46 Bucky:

omg. NOT what I meant. I'm watching dumb movies in my Pjs and can't be bothered to move.

 

19:50 Steve:

I see. Anything good on?

 

19:50 Bucky:

The movies? They're sort of Xmas themed.

 

19:51 Steve:

Want some company? :)

 

20:00 Bucky:

I'm pretty wiped...

 

20:01 Steve:

That's okay. Another time? :)

 

20:11 Bucky:

Would you bring beer?

 

20:12 Steve:

sure :D

 

~ ~ ~

 

Steve went one better, and made sure to turn up with a six pack and two pizzas.

Bucky buzzed him into the building, and when he opened the door his eyes fell to the pizzas, and widened.

“Awesome!” He flung the door open.

Steve laughed as he stepped inside. “I already ate, but who doesn't want pizza?” He looked Bucky over. “So, these are your pyjamas?”

Bucky had baggy flannel bottoms on, a black t-shirt and a purple comforter around his shoulders. His hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and he must've shaved the day before as he was almost clean shaven. The dark shadow of his beard was very subtle.

“I know they're not as good as my _Teenage Ninja Turtles_ jammies were.” Bucky held out his hands, so Steve handed over the pizzas with a laugh. Then he followed Bucky to the couch and they sat.

“Sorry it's a dump,” Bucky said, opening up the first pizza box and setting it on the coffee table. “This is Clint's post split retreat, so there's boxes and shit he's always sorting out.”

“Oh.” Steve felt a flicker of anxiety stir in him, his earlier fight with Sharon still going through his mind. He reached for the beer and cracked one open. “So, what we watching?”

“ _Love, Actually_.”

Steve laughed, almost spilling his beer down himself.

“Shut up. It's almost finished.”

They watched the end together. “This is the same people who did _Notting Hill_ , right?”

“Yup.” Bucky was busy demolishing the first pizza.

As the credits rolled, Steve remembered what he'd thought of the other day. “Oh, I totally have to tell you this thing!” He opened another beer, passed it to Bucky, then opened a second for himself. “I saw some ad that had singing mice, and it made me think of you. Remember? That cartoon we always watched about the mice going to America?”

Bucky stared at him, but Steve saw the moment Bucky realised what he meant. “ _Oh_.” He grinned, then closed his eyes and pitched his voice high to sing, “Somewhere! Out there!”

“Yes!” Steve pointed in excitement. “Exactly! That fucking song!”

Bucky laughed. “Yes, it was. Oh, that movie. Those squeaky voices.”

“Let's watch it!” Steve urged. “It must be online.”

“Seriously, Rogers?” Bucky leaned over to get the laptop, and entered a search. “Crash my Christmas rom com party with your beer and pizza, demanding animated singing mice and shit.”

“I loved those movies.”

“I know, Steve.” Bucky tilted the laptop to Steve. “It's here. _An American Tail._ All one hour and twenty minutes of it.”

“Yes! Put it on!”

“Jeez.”

Bucky cued up the movie. Steve remembered that Bucky's mom had bought that video for him in the eighties, because it was about Jewish immigrants coming to New York. Bucky and Steve had ended up watching it a lot, for some reason. Steve had liked animated movies a lot back then.

The movie started in Russia, and brought back so many memories. With Bucky sitting next to him on the couch, Steve felt like he'd been transported back in time.

“I love the song on the boat,” Steve said, as soon as the scene arrived.

“Better than the screechy kid voices,” Bucky grumbled. Steve ignored him. When the song started, Steve joined in loudly, the way they had as kids. Bucky laughed at him, then he laughed harder when the skinny Irish mouse came on.

“Oh, look, Steve, it's you,” Bucky taunted, exactly like he'd used to back then.

Steve shoved him. “Shaddup and sing!”

“No.”

“C'mon, Buck. There are no cats in America!”

Bucky groaned, but he was smiling.

They watched the movie. Steve was pleasantly surprised to find that he still loved the songs. “This one's my favourite,” he told Bucky, when the French pigeon started his song.

“Okay, Steve.”

“C'mon, Buck, join in.”

Bucky sighed dramatically. “I'll do Fievel's parts.”

“Yes!” Steve air punched. They sang the song together, and Bucky pitched his voice high to do the young mouse, while Steve did the French pigeon. He hadn't grinned this hard in a long time. “That was brilliant.”

“It is freakishly impressive how you know all the words,” Bucky said.

“Hey, I have an eidetic memory.”

Bucky scoffed, “The hell you do.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“No, pal, this is just you watching too many cartoons as a kid,” Bucky argued, opening the second pizza box. “Are you gonna eat this?”

“Yes.” Steve reached for a slice. He had his mouth full when he wanted to point out certain bits of the movie that annoyed him.

“Calm down,” Bucky told him, “it's for kids.”

“And it annoyed me back then too!” Steve insisted. “If that fancy pigeon had dropped Fievel off in the right place, instead of just throwing him anywhere, he'd have gotten to Immigration and found his family sooner!”

“Okay, Steve.”

“It's true! The whole plot hinges on that one moment!”

“I believe you.” Bucky laughed. “Now shut up and watch the dumb movie.”

They watched it. Near to the end, Steve shot a look to Bucky. “Okay, who's doing who in the song?”

“What song?”

“The one that Tiger the cat sings with Fievel in a minute. _'We're a duo'_. Remember?”

“Hah!” Bucky set down his beer and pushed his comforter away. “Let's do it. We can share.”

Steve smiled at him. He had memories of getting up to dance when this song came on, the two of them singing and acting out the parts.

Well, unless Steve felt wheezy. Then Bucky would goof around extra to make Steve smile.

They sang the song together on the couch. Or, shouted it. Steve remembered more words than Bucky, who fudged his way through. Steve laughed anyway. He wanted to throw his arms around Bucky and hug him, he was so happy. He managed to hold off, only because he was wary of giving himself away.

If he held Bucky now, Steve wouldn't want to let go.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Bucky washed his hands and splashed cold water on his face. Then he leant on the sink and just... stared at nothing for a moment while he rallied his thoughts.

Get a grip, Barnes, he told himself. You're just friends, okay? Platonic friends. He's taken, he's getting married. There's no point getting all attached to straight guys. If he wants to live a straight life, don't interrupt him.

“Okay,” he breathed out. “Right.”

 _Platonic_. He could do this.

Bucky patted his face dry with a towel, and glanced at himself in the mirror. _He's out of your league anyway_ , a cruel voice supplied. Bucky conceded the thought was correct. He had no idea what Steve's fiancée did or what she looked like, but it was bound to be some good and wholesome image that Bucky most definitely did not fit.

He exited the bathroom, shuffled back to the couch and sank into it, reaching for his comforter. He was kinda hoping the swaddles of purple fleece would hide his podgy stomach rolls.

Steve was busy fiddling with the laptop. “Have you been watching _Supergirl_?” he asked, a hopeful look on his face.

Bucky smiled at him. “Yeah.”

“Any good?”

“It's fun, yeah.”

“I saw some photos of Superman in the new season...”

“Oh, yeah he's a different guy to the movies. I think you'd like him. As close to Dean Cain _Superman_ we're gonna get.”

Steve had had a massive man crush on _Superman_ back when they were twelve, even if he'd denied it.

Bucky leaned over to search for season two, and got _Supergirl_ playing. They watched two episodes, by which time it was nearly midnight. Bucky was off tomorrow, but he hadn't mentioned that yet. Surely Steve would be working, and he'd have to head home soon.

Unless he didn't want to go home.

Bucky quashed that thought. He had to stop thinking that way.

Steve had been murmuring his approval of _Supergirl_ for two hours, but then he said, “Why do none of these TV shows have a good theme tune any more? You barely get a second for the title, then it's over! And no theme tune. I can't tell any of them apart by their opening sounds.”

Bucky laughed. “Point. More time for ads, I guess.”

“Ugh.” Steve threw his hands up. “Fuck advertising. Fucking advertising ruins everything. Seriously, fuck it.”

Bucky used the palm of his hand to write a pretend note. “Fuck advertising. Got it.”

Steve looked at him fondly. “You still make your dumb notes.”

“Only to dumb jerks who shout about things.”

Steve chuckled quietly. “Sorry. I know I get... wound up.”

“Hey, I was kidding, Steve. I love it when you're wound up. I bet you inspire the kids in your lectures when you get all wound up about a cause.”

Now Steve laughed heartily, that lovely deep laugh Bucky adored. “Who knows! Maybe.”

“Sure you do.”

They smiled at each other, until Bucky felt embarrassed and looked away.

“Buck, I... I...”

“What?”

Steve sighed. “I kinda wanna tell you something I got no right to, and I know I shouldn't.”

Bucky's heart stuttered, but he managed to quip, “You ain't doing no number two's in my bathroom, Steve.”

That made him grin, but the classic Steve Rogers frown appeared soon after in full force.

_Uh oh. This is serious._

“Buck... I'm gonna say it, then you can kick me out if you want to.”

“Um... okay?”

Steve took a deep breath, then said all in a rush, “I'm having second thoughts about getting married.”

Bucky stopped breathing for a moment, his heart went into overdrive and his pulse raced. But he pushed his own feelings aside and forced himself into big brother mode. “Okay... Well, I'm sure a lot of people get cold feet, Steve.”

Steve shook his head, staring hard at the empty bottles on the table. “It's not that. I think we've grown apart. I'm not even sure how I feel about Sharon, if I ever did love her. It's just... it was easier to go along with it, y'know?”

Bucky chewed his lip. “Have you talked to her?”

“No. I've been real cranky lately,” Steve explained. “She's just... _obsessed_ with the wedding, and I feel invisible. It's driving us further apart. I don't want to spend time at home. I said I'm not going to her folks for Christmas because I want to volunteer again, and she really lost it this time.”

“Um... How long have you been together?”

“Five years.”

“Right.” _Shit_ , _shit_. Bucky tried to stay calm. “Well, uh... I'm sure if you talk things out, it'll help. Maybe it's just the wedding pressure getting to you.”

“Bucky, I don't love her, okay?” Steve insisted. “I don't.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry. It's just–”

“I'm in love with someone else,” Steve said with finality.

And oh, how that cut through Bucky's heart.

“Oh,” he said calmly, years of experience at masking his feelings sliding into play. “Gotta do what makes you happy, Steve. It's your life.”

Steve nodded, and they sat in tense silence for several long moments.

Bucky couldn't bear it. “Who is it?” he asked.

With a sigh, Steve reached over and placed his hand over Bucky's. “You, you jerk.”

Bucky stared at Steve's hand squeezing his, the heat of his palm transferring to his skin. His brain skipped like a needle on a broken record.

_You, you, you._

_That's a huge responsibility_ , his inner voice provided. _No shit_ , Bucky thought back. He hadn't been anybody's anything for a real long time. “Um...” He extracted his hand and stood, leaving the comforter behind. Bucky couldn't focus, stared at nothing. He wanted to run and hide, but his limbs felt sluggish.

Steve appeared in front of him. “Bucky?” he said, voice gentle. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean...” He studied Bucky's face, then placed his hands on Bucky's shoulders. “Breathe with me. Bucky? Breathe.”

Bucky couldn't breathe. His throat felt tight.

Steve guided him back to the couch, sat him down. Then he pulled out his phone, looked for something, and put the phone in Bucky's hands, holding it with him.

“Buck, watch the shape. Breathe in time with it. I'll do it with you.”

Bucky watched the screen. A black and white geometric shape was folding in and out at regular intervals, and though Bucky felt ridiculous, he tried to time his breathing with the shape.

Steve breathed with him, and after a little while, Bucky felt slightly less spaced out and breathless.

“Doing okay?” Steve asked, watching him closely.

Bucky nodded, then changed his mind and shook his head. Okay would mean talking, and Bucky wasn't ready for that.

“Okay, keep breathing with the shape. It's neat, huh? I downloaded it when I saw it online. Keep breathing.”

Bucky kept breathing. Steve was still touching his hands, and that wasn't really helping matters. Bucky thought he must've somehow slipped into an alternate reality where everything he wanted was actually attainable.

He was terrified.

Steve moved his hands, shifting to sit next to Bucky, and put one hand on his knee. “You okay, pal? Keep breathing.”

Bucky stared at the shape, and kept breathing.

“Buck, I'm so sorry to dump that on you. That was shitty of me. I apologise.”

Bucky would've rolled his eyes –same old Steve, taking all the blame– but he kept staring at the shape instead, and breathing.

“But I'm not sorry I spoke up,” Steve went on, voice quiet but firm. “This has been on my mind, and seeing you again just made me realise. I do love you, Bucky. I wish I'd said so years ago. I wish we'd never lost touch. I wish I wasn't in the position I am now, but I've realised that I don't want to... marry Sharon, or be with her. I want to be with you. And if you don't want to deal with me and my, uh, all my baggage right now, I'd understand. I'll go sort it all out, and when I'm single again I'll come back and maybe we could... talk about us? If you want? I know I'm assuming a lot here.”

Steve breathed in. “Okay. I'll shut up now. But I'm staying put until you feel all right, if that's okay? I can't leave if you're not all right.”

The hand on Bucky's knee squeezed, then left. Steve retracted himself and settled into the other end of the couch, giving Bucky space.

Bucky just kept right on breathing, holding Steve's phone. But his thoughts were manic.

 _Way to drop the bomb, Rogers_ , he thought.

 _It's not real_ , another, meaner voice supplied, _he doesn't mean it. He'd never want to end up with you. No one would._

Bucky swallowed. He reached for his unfinished beer, his throat dry. He drank the rest in one go.

Steve was watching him. “Can you breathe okay?”

Bucky nodded, placing Steve's phone onto the couch between then. He didn't know where to look, so he stared at the TV screen.

“Okay, good,” Steve said with relief. “You scared me. I'm so sorry. This wasn't how I wanted to tell you at all.”

“How did you want to tell me?” Bucky found himself asking, his voice scratchy.

“I...” Steve breathed deep. “I thought it'd be nicer. Romantic. Maybe in a park, taking a walk. I always thought...” He exhaled on a laugh. “I always _hoped_ you'd say it first. I guess I'm getting impatient in my old age.”

Bucky made a noise of agreement.

They lapsed into quiet again, until Steve said, “Want me to put something on?” He gestured to the TV, which wasn't playing anything.

Bucky nodded, and continued to stare at the blank screen, at the remains of their dinner on the table.

“More _Supergirl_?”

Bucky nodded again. It didn't matter what was on, he just had to zone out for a while.

They watched more _Supergirl_. Then it was close to two in the morning and Bucky needed to sleep. “Aren't you working tomorrow?” he asked.

“I don't have a lecture till eleven thirty,” Steve yawned. “I'll go stay with Sam and Riley tonight.”

He made to leave, and that woke Bucky up enough to say, “No, unless you're getting a cab. You're not leaving. Just stay on the couch.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I'm sure.” There was no way Bucky would let Steve wander off in the dead of night in this neighbourhood. “Go use the bathroom. I'll get some blankets.”

“Okay. Thanks, Buck.”

Bucky searched around for clean blankets and a pillow –he'd have to give Steve one of his– and dropped them on the couch. Then he did a tactical retreat to his room while Steve was still in the bathroom, and shut the door and got into bed.

He'd deal with all the rest in the morning.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Bucky woke up five hours later needing the bathroom, and on his way saw that the couch was vacant, blankets folded neatly. Steve must have left already. Had he even stayed?

Bucky checked his phone when he went back to bed, but no messages.

It was like he'd imagined the whole thing.

 

Bucky woke up properly at ten, and dragged himself off to the kitchen. Still no messages. Once he'd got coffee, he'd message Steve.

Clint was in the kitchen, munching on the leftover pizza. “Hey,” he said cheerily. “Coffee's hot.”

Bucky grunted a thanks.

Clint watched him for a moment, chewing pizza. Bucky poured himself a coffee. Clint was dressed in his black and navy security uniform. Bucky never knew if Clint was coming or going, his schedule was worse than Bucky's.

“Met your friend last night,” Clint said. “Or should I say, this morning.”

“Oh. Yeah, sorry. He didn't mean to stay so late.”

“It's cool. We kinda surprised each other. I saw the pizza but didn't see him until I almost sat on him.”

“What time was that?”

Clint shrugged. “Five, maybe.”

So, Steve had stayed. Bucky grinned at the thought of Clint surprising Steve. “I forgot to text you about him staying on the couch,” Bucky said. “My bad.”

“It's fine. I'm gonna eat this pizza though.”

“Sure.”

Bucky shuffled back to his room with coffee. He took a few sips, then picked up his phone.

 

10:08 Bucky:

Clint is sorry for startling you this morning. U ok?

 

10:20 Steve:

Yeah that was something! He was about to sit on my face! 0____0

 

10:21 Steve:

All good. Just on train rn. How ru?

 

10:25 Bucky:

Sleepy.

 

10:25 Bucky:

LOL not the face!! :D

 

10:26 Bucky:

Clint sat on his own dinner once. It was pretty impressive.

 

10:27 Steve:

He seems like a good guy. Is he straight?

 

10:29 Bucky:

Pretty sure he's straight.

 

10:32 Bucky:

Why? You into him now?

 

10:45 Bucky:

That was a joke :s

 

10:53 Steve:

LOL yeah I got that! I'm just getting into my lecture, u dork. No im not into your room mate. He could at least buy me dinner before trying to sit on my face!

 

10:54 Bucky:

Haha

 

10:54 Bucky:

So that's what you're into. Dinner, then tea bagging.

 

10:55 Steve:

No! Lmfao

 

10:55 Steve:

Well not from him at any rate ;P

 

10:56 Steve:

Better go. Gotta look like I know what i'm talking about. TTYL

 

10:57 Bucky:

Bye :)

 

 

Bucky held his phone as he sipped his coffee in bed. He reread their conversation history –wow, that was a lot of messages– and found the photos Steve had first sent. The teacher ones. Bucky grinned as he gazed at the pictures of Steve.

He had a sudden urge to go for a walk in a park, enjoy some fresh air and winter sunshine.

 

~ ~ ~

 

13:40 Steve:

Students ask such dumb questions. Send help.

 

13:46 Bucky:

Hey u chose the career pal. Try having the exact same conversation with a bunch of people who have zero short term memory every day.

 

13:47 Steve:

LOL ok that's tough. My grandma had dementia so I remember it's not easy.

 

13:48 Bucky:

I remember when you'd go visit her some weekends. And yeah. Tough. :(

 

13:49 Steve:

How long you worked there? I'm sure I asked you this already.

 

13:50 Bucky:

This place, nearly 2 years. & yes u did Steve. Don't go senile on me already.

 

13:51 Steve:

I won't :P altho I did rush into work with my shirt buttoned wrong today. One of the students told me after the first lecture was already over. #professional

 

13:53 Bucky:

omg a hashtag. Who are you. Also, haha.

 

13:54 Steve:

R u at work?

 

13:55 Bucky:

I'm in Central park.

[img attachment].jpg 001

 

13:56 Steve:

LOL nice hat. What you up to?

 

13:57 Bucky:

Eating roast chestnuts on a bench. Yum.

 

13:57 Steve:

Are you off all day? I got another lecture at 2.30 but then i'm free :)

 

13:02 Bucky:

I dunno :> I mean I want to see you. I'm not sure today is good.

 

13:05 Steve:

It's ok. I shouldn't have asked. Sorry. Resume what u were doing! :)

 

13:07 Bucky:

It's not that I don't want to :(

 

13:08 Steve:

Bucky it's ok. I should give u space. That was a lot to dump on u last night. I'm an asshole & im sorry.

 

13:09 Steve:

I'm gonna get my shit together and show u im serious. I love u Bucky Barnes. I can't wait to tell the whole world :)

 

13:23 Steve:

Hey do me a favor? Please don't tell anyone yet? I should be the one to tell Sharon.

 

13:25 Steve:

I'm sorry it's got to be like this :(

 

13:31 Bucky:

I won't tell anyone. x

 

~ ~ ~

 

Bucky had started off the day feeling happy and excited, but by the time he came home, he felt... weird. Anxious. All he could think was, why would Steve throw away a long term relationship for _him_? He was a nobody, going nowhere fast. He was chubby, self conscious and anti social, and he worked anti social hours. He wasn't a great catch for someone who had their life on track and looked like a catalogue model.

Bucky wasn't stupid. Steve would change his mind and end up marrying the woman, and living the easier straight life.

No doubt.

Bucky changed into his comfortable soft pyjamas and got into bed with his phone, and a large bag of chips. He went on his Tinder account and swiped left on nearly everyone in a very passive-aggressive way. Maybe he should concentrate on the proper dating websites again. Maybe he should sign up for something face to face, like speed dating.

Maybe he should just bury his head in the sand and never bother dating ever again. That would be easier.

The front door opened, and voices filtered in. Bucky recognised Clint and Pietro speaking. That meant they'd be smoking. Bucky was pleased he hadn't showered already. He'd do it in the morning; he was doing overtime tomorrow on a late shift.

When Clint texted him to ask if he wanted to join, Bucky went out and left his phone in his room.

 

 

19:50 Steve:

So this new Star Wars looks interesting. Wanna go? :)

 

19:59 Steve:

Did u see the last one? It was good

 

20:19 Steve:

R u working?

 

20:45 Steve:

Hope ur not sleeping :( ill leave you in peace. Nite Buck

xx

 

~ ~ ~

 

“Monty, can I ask you something?”

“As long as it's not about my pills, go ahead, young man.”

Bucky smiled. “You took your pills earlier. I watched you, and logged it in the book.”

“Oh, good.” Monty chuckled. “Glad one of us is paying attention.”

“Of course.” Bucky sat Monty on the edge of his bed. “Shall we change you into pyjamas, or do you want to visit the bathroom first?”

“Pyjamas, I think.” Monty began trying to unbutton his cardigan, but with his arthritic hands it was difficult. Bucky helped him out, but didn't discourage Monty from doing what he could on his own.

“Was that your question?” Monty gave him an assessing look.

Bucky made sure he focused on his task, removing cardigan, then shirt, carefully. “Um. Well, it's just... you know what you said before about... straight guys? I mean, guys marrying women?”

Monty chuckled again. “That is what straight men tend to do, yes. Would you care to be more specific?”

“Uh, right. Yeah.” Bucky put the clothes aside as he held out the pyjama jacket for Monty to slip his arm in. “I presume you're leaving your vest on tonight?”

“You presume right!” Monty agreed. “Chilly now.”

“Yeah, it's December. You can have a clean vest after your morning wash.”

“The things I have to look forward to,” Monty muttered, as he tried to manoeuvre his arms. “Do I have you in the morning?”

“I think I'm on a late again, so, no.”

“Ah, pity. Well, you had better ask whatever's on your mind now, then.”

“Um, yeah.” Bucky buttoned Monty up, so he wouldn't get cold, then busied himself bending down to take off Monty's slippers. “If a guy is like... all set to marry a woman, but then he turns around and tells you that... uh, that he wants to be with you...” Bucky was fidgeting with the slippers. He set them aside, and bit his lip before asking, “Do you think he... I mean, do guys do that? Like, do they quit straight life all of a sudden?”

Monty was quiet, then hmmed. “That is quite a question, James. If only I could answer it for you.”

They got Monty out of his trousers and socks, and into pyjamas and bed socks. “I'm a sucker, right?” Bucky asked. He stood up and held Monty's frame for him. “It won't happen for real, will it?”

Monty sat on the bed, watching him. “Now, hold your horses, lad. Don't write it off just yet. What has actually happened, and what was said?”

Bucky flushed. “Nothing's happened yet. But he said... he said he had to get his shit together, tell his fiancée it was over, and when he's single he wants to talk to me about... us. I guess.”

“I see.” Monty nodded thoughtfully. “And you want my opinion on that, do you?”

Bucky nodded.

“You may not like it,” Monty said, “but take it from someone who's heard pretty words like those many times, dear boy. Words can be sweet and very convincing, but what speaks louder than words?”

“Actions?”

“Exactly.” Monty reached out to pat Bucky's hand. “Not just a pretty face, are you.”

Bucky laughed. “Not even that.”

“Oh, hush. You're a fine young man. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“You're just saying that because I sneak you extra pudding at dinner time.” Bucky helped Monty to stand, steadying him on his frame.

“I only speak the truth, pudding or no pudding,” Monty declared.

Bucky escorted Monty to the en suite, let him have his moment on the toilet, then helped him to wash up and brush his teeth.

As he walked Monty back to bed, Monty said, “If you grab a time machine, come visit me when I was younger. I'd have looked after you.”

Bucky grinned. “What era should I go back to?”

“Sixties or seventies,” Monty said. “Had a lot of fun back then.”

Bucky helped him into bed.

“Still,” Monty went on, “terribly sad business after that, you know. The eighties was dreadful. Have young people learned their lesson about safe sex now?”

“Uh... I dunno, pal. I grew up in the eighties and remember the ads about Aids. Scared the crap outta me.”

“Yes, good. Use protection, James.”

“I will. Gotta find a willing partner first.” Bucky tucked him in, and replaced the water beaker on the nightstand.

“I just cannot believe you've not been snapped up.” Monty reached for his glasses. “Hand me my book, please.”

Bucky handed him his novel, a spy adventure.

“I suppose you're one of those fussy ones,” Monty said.

“Fussy?”

“Yes, only explanation for it. What's your type? I was tall and fair haired in my day. Fit, too. Could run miles on my legs.”

Bucky couldn't help a grin. “I'm sure you could. Okay, I better run myself. Unless you need anything else? I'll just hang up your clothes...”

“So, this chap you mentioned,” Monty said.

“Yeah?”

“Have you a photo?”

“Man, you are the worst. Actually, I do.” Bucky came back around the bed, pulled out his phone and found that ridiculous photo of Steve being all teacher-like.

Monty peered through his glasses. “Well, well,” he said. “Can you zoom in on his face with these things?”

Bucky tapped the screen to zoom in.

“Yes, he looks like a young Richard Gere.”

“What?” Bucky laughed. “No, he doesn't, Monty, they look nothing alike.”

“They jolly well do. Same jawline.”

“Hang on.” Bucky went to Google quick, and brought up photos of a younger Richard Gere. The ones from _An Officer And A Gentleman..._

Okay, maybe the face shape was a little similar. But that was the only passing resemblance. Bucky showed Monty the photos, and Monty said, “Yes, now there is a good jawline. I much admired him as an actor.”

Bucky snorted. “I bet you did.” He smiled before he left. “See you soon, Monty. Enjoy your book.”

“I shall. You enjoy your Richard Gere.”

Bucky laughed as he left. He wanted to text Steve and tell him, but he felt a little guilty for telling anyone about him when he'd said he wouldn't. Bucky had to talk to someone though. He was going out of his mind right now.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ ~ ~
> 
> If you want to check out the song [We're a Duo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XTdngAnibgU) it's pretty cute actually. 
> 
> ~ ~ ~


	4. I'm Only Happy When It's Complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The holiday blues, pining, more suggestive texting, expectations, karaoke, and giving in, starring Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers.
> 
> *wink*there's smut ahead! ;P

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Garbage 'I'm only happy when it rains'.
> 
> ~ ~ ~
> 
> No warnings, except maybe mild flirting in a bar, and drinking; nothing bad tho. And see the chapter summary for my not so subtle smut alert. ;P
> 
> ~ ~ ~

_'Expectation is the root of all heartache.'_

~ William Shakespeare

 

 

 

Bucky's Anti-Christmas Playlist

_All I want –_ The Offspring

 _Bring The Noise_ – Public Enemy feat. Anthrax

 _Teenage Dirtbag_ – Wheatus

 _Good Times_ – INXS/Jimmy Barnes

 _You Oughta Know_ – Alanis Morissette

 _Only Happy When It Rains_ – Garbage

 

 

 

 

09:01 Steve:

So, Star Wars? :D

 

15:09 Steve:

No pressure or anything, I just want to see a movie with you. I promise no funny business.

 

16:12 Bucky:

I'm working solid until after xmas now.

 

16:14 Steve:

Oh :(

 

16:14 Steve:

What about day time?

 

16:15 Bucky:

Any time free I'll be sleeping.

 

16:17 Steve:

Fair enough. Guess I'll have to third wheel it with Sam + Riley!

 

16:18 Bucky:

Why don't you go with Sharon?

 

16:18 Steve:

She doesn't like Star Wars. Which is a good enough reason not to get married tbh!

 

16:21 Bucky:

Right.

 

16:24 Steve:

Buck, look I was thinking about when to tell her. I've been trying to get myself ready to leave. I don't want to ruin Christmas for her. She loves it + I don't want to ruin all her future Christmases by making her think of breaking up. I'm going to have to wait until the new year. I'm sorry, I wish it wasn't December, I really do :(

 

16:30 Steve:

Mom died on December 29th. I really hate December.

 

16:35 Bucky:

December stinks :( Sorry, Steve. Sarah was awesome. I wish I'd known.

 

16:36 Steve:

Your mom came to the funeral. It was 3 years ago.

 

16:37 Bucky:

Wow. She never said :( I woulda come.

 

16:37 Steve:

What happened with you guys? :( Tell me to butt out if you want.

 

16:50 Bucky:

It's dumb really. It's better than it was. Becca and Mom talk to me sometimes but I haven't spoken to Dad in ages.

 

16:51 Bucky:

Had no idea he was such a bigot.

 

16:51 Steve:

:(

 

16:52 Steve:

What was he mad about?

 

16:57 Bucky:

First it was college. I didn't like the courses he railroaded me into. I wish I'd stayed on but at the time I'd just had enough. I dropped out, then started seeing a guy... That was the last straw.

 

16:59 Steve:

That's rough, I'm sorry :( I have students come to me in tears sometimes about their majors +future careers. Most cases, it's overbearing parents making it worse :( no one deserves that, Buck. You certainly don't. I always thought your dad was way too strict with you and Becca.

 

17:00 Steve:

I hope things smooth out. Why don't you send them a really gay Christmas card in the meantime? :P

 

17:01 Bucky:

LOL yes that'd help loads, Steve. What's a really gay xmas card anyway?

 

17:02 Steve:

No idea! But I'll look out for one. :D

 

17:02 Bucky:

Okay sure, you do that :)

 

17:04 Steve:

:P xxx

 

~ ~ ~

 

Bucky spent the run up to Christmas feeling tense. On top of the usual holiday blues, he had this situation with Steve on his mind. One moment Bucky was furious with Steve over it all, for teasing him with the possibility of actually getting everything he'd ever wanted... then the next moment his treacherous heart would swell with hope and what ifs. It felt like being told he'd won the jackpot, but had yet to see the winning ticket.

His rational side kept butting in, reminding him that actions spoke louder than words, just as Monty had said. No point getting his hopes up when nothing had happened, and Steve was still living with his fiancée, probably sleeping in the same bed every night... most likely still sleeping together.

_Ugh, don't think about it._

And it made him furious because he couldn't _stop_ thinking about it.

Bucky pulled damp clothes from the machine and stuffed them into an empty dryer with more force than was strictly necessary. He'd managed to get into the laundry room, and enjoy a few minutes of peace and quiet at work. Sad as he was, Bucky liked doing laundry.

Well, if he was alone. He liked the quiet, and the calm repetitiveness of the task. Loading, unloading, folding, sorting. He could've done with longer doing the laundry just to unwind, but there wasn't enough time; they were super short staffed as it was.

But if Bucky was lucky, it'd be so busy he wouldn't have time to dwell on Steve at all, or keep checking his phone for Steve's texts that both excited him and made him anxious.

He stilled in the middle of folding a shirt, thinking about Steve again and their last conversation over text. It'd been more than a few days ago, but it still lingered in Bucky's mind.

 _Screw you, Steve Rogers_. Asking questions and dredging up family business that Bucky had more or less convinced himself didn't bother him any more. Now he had all those feelings close by, and he felt irritable.

Add to that Logan taking a swing at him that morning, clipping Bucky on the jaw, and it was shaping up to be another stressful day.

The door to the laundry room banged open, making Bucky jump.

 _Oh no, company_. His heart sank as someone wheeled their laundry cart in. Bucky glanced over his shoulder to see Angie.

She smiled when she saw him. “Well, hey, stranger. What brings a guy like you to a dump like this?”

Bucky smile wryly. “Of all the laundry joints in all the world,” he replied, heavy on the Bogart, “you gotta walk into mine.”

Angie laughed. She wheeled her trolley to an empty machine, then turned and said, “Here's lookin' at you, kid,” in a much better Bogart impression.

Angie was an actress after all.

“So, how's life, Barnes?” she asked, opening a machine and stuffing laundry in.

“Oh, y'know. A laugh riot.” Bucky resumed his folding. “You?”

“I'm sensing sarcasm,” Angie replied. “My answer is, ditto.”

Bucky smiled. He liked Angie. She was bi, too; had started telling Bucky about her dating woes the first time they'd crossed paths, like she just knew he'd lend a sympathetic ear. Bucky wasn't sure why people often did that to him, maybe he still had _big brother_ stamped on his forehead or something.

Angie was nice, though. She seemed lonely at times, so Bucky made an effort, when if it'd been any of the other staff he likely would've ignored them.

He nodded dutifully and hmmed in response when Angie started recounting work gossip that he didn't care much about, but he did say a genuine, “Congratulations,” when she mentioned about landing the lead in a Christmas number.

If it went well, Angie would quit care work. Bucky wouldn't blame her if she did.

“You'll have to come see me perform,” Angie told him. “I can get you tickets.”

“I'll try my best,” Bucky said. He'd folded all he could fold for now, and had to get going. “Hope it goes well.”

Angie beamed. “Me, too. You know,” she added, as Bucky wheeled his laundry past her, “there's a couple guys in the cast you'd like. If you come to the show I can get you backstage to meet them. Or girls, if you want. One of the understudies is real cute.”

Bucky laughed, surprised. “Make me an offer I can't refuse, huh?”

Angie shrugged, nonplussed. “I think you'd like them. I know they'd like you.”

“Uh...” Bucky paused in his way out, said without thinking, “I might be seeing someone.”

Angie dropped what she'd been doing and spun to face him. “You have _news_ , and you didn't share?”

Bucky froze, wishing he'd stayed quiet. “I don't share,” he grumbled, a knee-jerk reaction. Then, when Angie's face fell, he added, “With most people. So don't you tell anyone, Martinelli.”

She rolled her eyes, but smiled back. “How can I, when you haven't even told me anything? Who is it? When did this happen?”

Bucky shook his head as he quickly wheeled his cart away. “Nothing to tell yet, okay?”

“Nothing?” Angie was incredulous, and leaned out the door to call after him, “I better be the first person you tell, Barnes! Don't hold out on me!”

“Alright, already!” he called back, hurrying away.

Jeez, he thought. He'd almost told someone else about Steve, when he'd promised he wouldn't tell anyone.

_Just... keep it together, Barnes. Keep it together._

 

~ ~ ~

 

Christmas was... a shit-show, for Bucky anyway. Public holidays didn't mean that old folks didn't need care on those days. Certainly didn't stop their appetites or their bowel movements. A few too many festive treats and the winter lurgy had upset stomachs and asses through the whole complex, not just Bucky's floor. And with staff on leave or calling in sick, it was schmucks like him who picked up the slack, working twice as hard and pulling double time.

On top of that, there were triple the amount of visitors that the folks usually had milling about, or getting lost and asking dumb questions when Bucky had his hands full.

Bucky supposed most of them came during the holidays from a sense of obligation rather than actually wanting to sit and talk to elderly relatives. Pietro never stayed long with Mr. Lehnsherr, but at least Wanda stayed for a game of chess, and Bucky was pleased for the old man.

Some residents weren't so lucky, they had no visitors at all for one reason or another. What annoyed Bucky was that management never seemed to take that into consideration, but they had their hands full pitching in to clean and do room checks because of the lack of staff. Bucky took it upon himself on Christmas Eve afternoon to stealthily orchestrate as many of the lonely residents into the same area of the dining hall, and distract them with a movie on the wall mounted flat-screen, and board games with snacks for anyone who didn't want to watch TV.

It helped a little, but Bucky still caught a few longing gazes directed at other residents who had visitors. Bucky wondered if he'd only made things worse by herding the lonesome lot together and essentially creating a sad corner.

But even visitors didn't always stay long, and then those residents were alone again too.

Bucky was supervising the dining hall alone, which actually meant he was doing the jobs of two other people as well as his own, with only one cook doing the meals. The residents still wanted attention whenever they saw him, and bathroom visits. Not to mention Bucky had no idea if anyone had checked on all of the bed-ridden residents back in their rooms yet.

He couldn't ask upstairs for help, they were short staffed too, with lots of ill residents thanks to a stomach bug. Which could mean the plans for a mixed floor Christmas lunch tomorrow would have to be cancelled, so the germs weren't passed around.

Bucky felt exhausted, stressed, anxious, and he wasn't even halfway through his shift. As soon as he had a break he was going to shut himself in a bathroom cubicle and bang his head repeatedly against the wall.

He was in the middle of distributing hot dinners from the cart –like an airline steward, he thought– when he looked up and did a double-take.

 _Steve_.

Steve was stood right there, smiling at him. His hair was ruffled, like he'd been wearing a hood or a hat until only moments ago. He had on dark jeans and a warm winter jacket, open to show a flash of colourful Christmas sweater.

Bucky stared, not quite believing his eyes. Did Steve have a relative to visit? Or...

 _Shit_ , he wasn't here for...?

“Steve?” he said, like a total dork. The resident he'd been about to serve dinner to looked at Bucky, then at Steve too, frowning over the delay. Bucky placed their tray of food down, removing the cover. “Um... just one sec,” he told the remaining two residents at the table.

He stepped away and approached Steve, who was still smiling at him. Bucky quickly scanned the dining room, looking for anyone else –Steve's fiancée, maybe?– but couldn't see anyone that'd come in with Steve. Bucky plastered on a smile. “Steve. What brings you here?”

“I was in the neighborhood.”

Bucky frowned, and Steve's smile faltered.

“I really was,” he added swiftly. “Anyway, I have something for you.”

“What?” Bucky's eyes darted to the large gift bag Steve held at his side.

 _Oh_.

“Your present,” Steve said, like it was obvious.

Bucky swallowed nervously.

“Do you...?” Steve shifted on the spot. “Do you want it now? Or I can leave it somewhere? I don't wanna interrupt. I was gonna just leave it at reception, but, ah... there wasn't anyone there.”

“Um...” Bucky was flushing hot at how awkward this was, but he tried to focus. “No, we're short staffed. How'd you get in?”

“Some guy called Luis. He said to go ahead and find you or you might not get it.”

“Um, right.”

“Shall I just...?” Steve held out the bag. “I mean, unless you don't...?”

“No, no.” Bucky reached out, taking the festive-print gift bag. It was light, and he held it, unsure what to do. “I don't... I don't have anything for you.”

Steve smiled at him warmly. “That's not true, Buck.”

Bucky wasn't sure what that meant, but this really wasn't the place to ask. It really wasn't the place to stand there gazing into Steve's blue eyes either but...

Steve cleared his throat and said, “Besides, you might hate what I gave you anyway.”

“No, I won't,” Bucky assured him.

Steve grinned wickedly.

“Will I?” Bucky asked dubiously, as Steve laughed to himself.

“I gotta run,” he said. “I'll be at the new crisis centre in Brooklyn if you... well, anyway.” Steve rocked back on his heels, looking shy and so huge at the same time.

Still a dork, Bucky thought. “So... where were you just now?”

“Children's ward.” Steve blushed now, looking down at the floor. “Big hospital four blocks up from here.”

“Oh.” Bucky'd had no idea. Steve hadn't texted him these last few days. “And now onto the shelter in Brooklyn?”

“Yeah.” Steve's smile was shy.

“Dressing up as Santa?” Bucky teased, because it was easier to try make Steve embarrassed than admit he was too.

Steve laughed at that. “Nah, just a 'lil helper.” He opened his coat to show off the Christmas sweater, and it was pretty horrible. Elves holding presents and smiling kinda horrible.

“Festive,” Bucky said flatly.

“Yup.” Steve closed his coat again. “Okay, I should go. I'm sorry to interrupt.”

“No problem.” Bucky watched as Steve turned to leave. He made his way quickly but carefully through the diners and other visitors, pausing at the door to wave once.

Bucky didn't wave back, but he did smile.

Then Steve was gone.

Bucky breathed in, partly in relief. He still felt flushed, but the dining hall was always warm so that didn't help. He turned back to his food cart and carefully laid his gift bag flat on the top, as inconspicuously as possible. Hopefully whatever was inside was okay being flat.

Then he took out the dinners for the remaining residents. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he told them, but they were more interested in their food than talking to him.

Bucky gratefully pushed the cart along to the next table, checking which tray was for who. When he looked up to scan the room, hoping no one was looking at him funny, his heart caught in his throat when he saw the table of vets –Monty, Tim Dugan, Gabe, and Logan– all watching him closely. Logan looked thoughtful, while the rest were grinning widely.

_Oh, no._

Bucky pretended nothing was amiss, served up dinners, and pushed the cart along. Next was the vet's table.

“Okay,” he said, concentrating on his sheet. “Roast beef.” He placed the first tray down for Logan. Had to feed him first, or he'd get testy.

“Friend of yours?” Tim Dugan asked loudly.

Bucky made a mental note to check Dugan's hearing aid batteries later. “Hm?” he bluffed, serving the next dinner.

“That handsome blond who just popped in,” Monty said, as Bucky felt himself turn beet red. “Rather a striking resemblance to Richard Gere, don't you think?”

Gabe and Dugan gave Monty a look. “Looked nothing like Richard Gere to me,” Gabe said.

“Should wear your glasses,” Dugan told Monty.

Bucky bit his lip to stop from smiling. He wished he had the balls to say, _I told you he didn't look like Richard Gere, Monty._

Bucky quietly dished out the final dinners.

“Aren't you going to open your gift?” Monty enquired.

Jeez, Bucky thought. Trust the vets to notice everything.

“What?” he feigned ignorance. “Oh, it's not for me. I'm passing it on.”

Bucky would've run for cover then, but the cart slowed his escape. Before he could leave, Logan snorted and said, “Might've believed that, if you weren't blushing from root to tip.”

“Now, now,” Monty cut in, “we haven't seen his tip to verify this.”

They all guffawed loudly. “Jeez... Okay, I'm leaving now.” Bucky pushed his cart away before they could make him blush any more.

 

Bucky rode the late train back, clutching the gift bag on his lap like a lifeline. He was dead on his feet, hungry, and tired. He was going home to an empty apartment, and his phone hadn't had any messages because no one bothered talking to him this time of year. The gift he held onto was the first genuine Christmas gift he'd received in...

Must be years, now.

And it was from Steve.

Bucky had peeped in the bag, curiosity piqued. There were two wrapped items, and Bucky was pretty sure he could guess one of them. A thin, hardback square shape, covered in wrapping paper. It reminded Bucky of when Steve would draw something for him, and sandwich the drawing between cardboard pieces to keep it safe. Bucky still had most of those drawings in a box back at his parent's house. Assuming they hadn't thrown out his stuff, of course.

The other gift was small, and soft when Bucky poked it. _Clothes?_ He was intrigued.

Steve hadn't texted at all today, when Bucky checked his phone, but then Steve hadn't texted for days... over a week. Bucky had half thought that was it, Steve had changed his mind and would just disappear. Seeing him today had been a real shock.

Or, a pleasant surprise, Bucky thought.

He clutched his gift bag tighter. The train rattled along, busier than Bucky had expected this late, but from the way people were dressed up he figured they were either coming back from bars and clubs or headed to them. He couldn't hear them, he had his headphones on and listening to his anti-christmas playlist. Usually he tried his best to ignore other people and the bitter curl of jealousy deep inside whenever he saw them enjoying their lives. Especially couples, and double especially the couples who made out the whole journey. Seriously, who did that?

But tonight, basking in the glow of his surprise gift, Bucky felt a little less bitter, and a little more hopeful. He didn't realise he was smiling until a passenger sat opposite him, an older woman laden with gift bags, smiled back.

 

Back home in the quiet apartment, Bucky switched on some lights, and the TV. He set his gift bag carefully on the coffee-table, then went to the kitchen to make a sandwich and ramen. He hadn't eaten enough, and this was a pathetic dinner, but it'd do.

After eating, he took a shower, because he felt disgusting and he had to be up in seven hours to start all over again.

Clean, and dressed in comfy pyjamas, Bucky sat on the couch to inspect his gift. There was a card in there too, which he opened first, and laughed when he saw the photo of a buff male model with reindeer antlers, holding mistletoe. Inside it read, _Buck, this was the gayest I could find! Happy Hanukkah, love from Steve. XXX_

Bucky carefully set the card on the coffee-table. He opened the soft gift first, ripping the thin paper off. It was... a fluffy beanie hat; brown with a white top, and holly for a bobble.

 _Oh_ , he thought, holding it up. It was a Christmas pudding. _Neat_. Bucky pulled it onto his damp hair.

Next he carefully unwrapped the picture. The paper came away to reveal plain card, protecting what was inside. Bucky opened the card to see a white, mounted, pen and ink sketch of two animal characters doing a song and dance number. Bucky recognised who they were; Fievel and Tiger in the middle of singing _We're a Duo_. The sketch was good, real good. A little messy, as was Steve's sketching style, but he had clearly improved a lot over the years, and Steve had been talented to begin with. This could've easily been an animation still.

Bucky liked it a lot.

Steve had signed and dated the bottom, with today's date. On the back was scrawled, _For Bucky_.

Bucky held it in his hands and smiled. There was a clear sleeve over the picture, so he couldn't smudge it. Maybe he could frame it later on. Bucky took his gifts and to his room when he went to bed. He placed the picture and the card on his nightstand, standing them up. He took a photo and sent it to Steve. 

Bucky got into bed, still wearing his hat. He fell asleep before Steve replied.

 

00:17 Steve:

Hey! I just saw your message! Hope you liked the drawing x

 

00:25 Steve:

I've just realised ur prob asleep. I hope I didn't wake you up.

 

~ ~ ~

 

“I hear you're in the dog house,” Sam said, setting a stack of dirty dishes next to Steve.

Steve froze, thoughts flying immediately to Bucky.

Like he hadn't already been thinking about Bucky as he washed dishes; Bucky in his nurse uniform with his hair tied back, and then the selfie that Bucky had sent today of him wearing the pudding hat, an amused smile on his lips.

Steve blinked at Sam, realising that Sam couldn't possibly know all this. “Huh? What...?”

Sam gave him a look, picking up a dishcloth to get washing in the sink next to him. They'd signed on for a day shift at the homeless shelter. Riley was flying, otherwise he'd had joined them.

“Christmas day.” Sam gestured around them. “You, here, in a soup kitchen, and not at home.”

Steve relaxed minutely. _Oh_. He shrugged. And went back to scrubbing food off dishes. “It would've been at her folks, not home. And they know I volunteer every year.”

“But this year she expected you to spend it with her,” Sam guessed.

Steve huffed slightly. It wasn't like he was _away_ , he went home at night. Sharon could've seen him then.

Or, she could've signed up to volunteer with him, Steve thought, instead of expecting him to quit what he wanted to do and follow her around to stuff shirt parties up-state, or sit with her parents in New Jersey and pretend their conservative values didn't upset him.

If Steve didn't keep busy at Christmas, he'd think about his mom too much. He wanted to feel like he was giving back to people who needed it, not waste time sipping champagne with rich people he had nothing in common with.

“She said I was being anti-social,” Steve admitted. Sam was one of the few friends he trusted with anything personal. Other people always seemed to have agendas; he was lucky to have met Sam, and it'd been through volunteer work.

Sam was quiet a beat, then asked, “Do _you_ think you're being anti-social?”

Steve stared down at the soapy dish-water. “No, not really.”

“Then that's all that matters, Steve.”

Steve forced himself to smile. There was a lot more he could've said, but it wasn't his favorite topic of conversation.

His thoughts drifted back to Bucky. He'd seemed busy, a little stressed but not outwardly showing it. Bucky was too good at radiating calm for that. Being around Bucky had always been calming for Steve, he just had this warm sort of aura that was reassuring. Like he'd take care of anyone if needed. And seeing Bucky in that uniform and looking after folks reminded Steve so much of his mom.

And... also, so much _not_ like his mom, with Bucky's large build filling out that small blue tunic, his strong arms on display, and his dark hair...

Steve felt a lot of things seeing Bucky in his uniform last night, and now he couldn't stop thinking about him. Steve had honestly been unaware he'd had a thing for uniforms.

Or, maybe it was just Bucky in a uniform.

“...and then I put on a skirt and did the can-can,” Sam was saying.

Steve looked at him in confusion.

Sam glanced at him, then smiled to himself as he washed. “I knew you weren't listening, man.”

“Um...” Steve flushed. “Sorry.”

“Something on your mind?”

Steve didn't know how red he looked right now, but his face felt hot enough to cook an egg. “Um. Something like that.”

Sam nodded. “Anyway. Riley asked if your, and I quote, hot gay friends are coming to the wedding.”

Steve studied his dish-water very thoroughly. “No... No, I don't think so.”

“Okay.” Sam paused his washing to look at Steve. “Maxed out your guest list, huh?”

Steve smiled wryly. “Yeah.”

“Riley will be disappointed.”

“Well, sometimes life brings us disappointments,” Steve quipped. He had to restrain himself from getting out his phone right then to text Riley something dramatic like, you're not allowed to proposition Bucky _ever_.

Steve really had to keep a lid on things.

And it was like high school all over again, being secretly in love with Bucky Barnes and not being able to tell a damn soul about it, or tell others to back off. Steve was right back where he'd started, except maybe...

Maybe this time what he wanted was within reach. He just had to escape his current situation first. Weather the holidays, and break up with Sharon.

A cold sweat broke out over his skin. Steve hated letting people down.

“You wanna invite them to our karaoke thing?” Sam asked.

Steve had almost forgotten this year's theme was karaoke. Sam had arranged it, trying his best to distract Steve from December 29th. Last year it'd been vintage diners and malt-shakes, the year before that galleries and an art exhibition. Sam was a very good friend.

Steve tried to imagine Bucky joining them for karaoke. He'd like that, he thought.

Maybe a little too much.

“Bucky's working loads, but I can certainly ask,” Steve hedged.

“Better do it soon,” Sam laughed. “Riley's already added him on Facebook, and he'll probably mention it sooner or later.”

Steve briskly turned to the side to stack plates for drying, so Sam wouldn't see him frown. “I'll ask Bucky,” he said with determination.

 

~ ~ ~

 

18:49 Steve:

Happy Hanukkah Buck

[image attachment.jpg001]

 

18:50 Steve:

How's work? Me + Sam wondered if you're free between Christmas + new year's? He's taking me to karaoke to embarrass me. Want to come?

 

20:02 Bucky:

I can't believe you texted me Christmas poo, you're so 12.

 

20:10 Steve:

Mr Hanky the Christmas poo!!! 

 

20:12 Steve:

LOL anyway, come save me from Sam + Riley please? They're choosing what songs I sing.

 

20:14 Bucky:

Since when do u do karaoke in public??

 

20:15 Steve:

Since now? LOL RU coming or not? Pick an eve.

 

20:18 Bucky:

I'll come, but I'm not singing. I can do 29 or 30

 

20:21 Steve:

Can it be 29th? I need distracting on that day. That's kind of why we're going.

 

20:22 Bucky:

Okay. Tell me when and where.

 

20:22 Steve:

Thanks Buck :)

 

20:23 Steve:

I hear Riley added you on FB

 

20:24 Bucky:

Yeah

 

20:25 Steve:

Any photos of you in ur nurse's uniform on there?

 

20:26 Bucky:

:--/ no, Rogers.

 

20:27 Steve:

So that one you sent me is the only one?

 

20:28 Bucky:

I guess??? You do realize I'm not actually a nurse?

 

20:29 Steve:

Uniform looks like it.

 

20:35 Steve:

I was gonna post you the gifts but I didn't finish the drawing till late and I wanted to see you. I didn't set out to bug you at work, promise.

 

20:39 Bucky:

An elaborate excuse to see my uniform, huh?

 

20:40 Steve:

Well that too :P

 

20:44 Steve:

You look real nice in it, Buck. Looks hot.

 

20:51 Bucky:

Are u serious?

 

20:52 Steve:

Very

 

20:53 Steve:

Can't stop thinking about you wearing it

 

21:02 Bucky:

R u drunk?

 

21:04 Steve:

I may have had a little eggnog, yeah

 

21:05 Bucky:

Who u with?

 

21:06 Steve:

I'm at Sam's. Riley's away. At shelter again tomorrow with Sam.

 

21:07 Bucky:

OK. Sam's a nice fella. Behave.

 

21:08 Steve:

Haha I will. He keeps asking who I'm texting.

 

21:09 Steve:

I said I was texting my better half. Is that bad? You feel more like my better half than anyone Buck. I miss you.

 

21:12 Bucky:

Steve, stop drunk texting and go sleep it off. I'm still on shift, you a-hole.

 

21:15 Steve:

Send me a pic of u

 

21:16 Bucky:

No. Go to sleep.

 

21:18 Steve:

Buckyyy.

[image attachment.jpg001]

 

21:22 Bucky:

If you think that sending pics of your mug pouting will sway me, you can think again, mister.

[image attachment.jpg001]

 

21:23 Steve:

Wow, sending a photo of your middle finger, who's 12 now.

 

21:25 Steve:

Buckyyy.

 

22:58 Bucky:

[image attachment.jpg001]

 

22:59 Steve:

When I asked for a pic of your uniform... I didn't mean just the uniform by itself. I meant you in it, you jerk.

 

23:00 Bucky:

haha

 

23:00 Bucky:

How ru still awake?

 

23:01 Steve:

I napped. Woke up and ate.

 

23:02 Bucky:

Congrats. I'm only just finishing.

 

23:03 Steve:

So if your uniform is all scrunched up on the floor, what are u wearing?

 

23:04 Bucky:

I'm already dressed + about to go home, at last. Get your drunk ass to bed, Rogers.

 

23:05 Steve:

No, I wanna keep you company.

 

23:06 Bucky:

If you want. I'll text when I'm on my train. Too cold.

 

23:07 Steve:

Safe journey.

 

23:10 Steve:

Hope you're OK.

 

23:24 Bucky:

I'm fine u dork. Waiting for my train.

 

23:25 Steve:

OK good. I wish I coulda come meet u.

 

23:26 Bucky:

I'm not walking your drunk ass home. U were bad enough in HS when u got tall. What do you even weigh now?

 

23:27 Steve:

LOL depends if i'm working out, sorta fluctuates between 190 – 200 pounds. If I stopped working out I'd go back to a skinny 180. or lower, knowing my luck.

 

23:29 Bucky:

Fuck Steve. And yeah you were always skinny. How much time do U actually spend in the gym?

 

23:31 Steve:

A lot? It helps me unwind. Started when I was single. Helps fill in the time.

 

23:32 Steve:

Are u on ur train yet?

 

23:33 Bucky:

Just on now. Finally. Yeah but why u still work out if ur with someone?

 

23:35 Steve:

I guess it's been a way of having time to myself.

 

23:36 Bucky:

I don't mean to pry. Sorry. I just can't imagine you spending that much time in a gym.

 

23:39 Steve:

Me neither LOL. It's been a way of relaxing. I don't draw much now, not for myself anyway. That one I did for you was the first in a long time.

 

23:40 Steve:

Plus there's guys at the gym and I can look ;P

 

23:41 Bucky:

It all makes sense now. Perv.

 

23:42 Steve:

You can talk. I thought you met that guy in a gym? What was his name? T'Challa?

 

23:42 Steve:

I've never met anyone in a gym and gone out with them.

 

23:43 Bucky:

OK. OK. Point taken.

 

23:44 Bucky:

Can I ask you something?

 

23:44 Steve:

Sure

 

23:45 Bucky:

Have you been seeing anyone else? Besides Sharon.

 

23:46 Steve:

No, no one. I don't want to do that to anyone.

 

23:47 Steve:

I suppose I am guilty of looking. I don't do anything else. It's not like with you, I want to be with you. Seeing you again was like a wake up call. Does this make sense? I'm pretty sleepy rn

 

23:48 Bucky:

OK I get it. Sorry to ask. I'm just trying to understand.

 

23:52 Steve:

I miss you, Buck. I want to be with you. Not anyone else.

 

23:55 Bucky:

Look, Steve. Maybe it's better if you don't rush into anything right now. Don't do anything you're gonna regret.

 

23:56 Steve:

I won't.

 

23:58 Steve:

I am a grown up, Buck. I can make my own decisions.

 

23:58 Bucky:

That wasn't what I meant, Steve. Just forget I said anything, OK?

 

00:00 Steve:

Do u want to know one of my biggest regrets? Not telling you how I felt sooner.

 

00:02 Steve:

If I had told you back then when we were seeing each other. If I'd told you I loved you, what would you have done?

 

00:06 Bucky:

Steve I'm not the same as I was back then.

 

00:07 Steve:

What does that mean?

 

 

Bucky stared down at his phone as he sat on the train. He didn't know _what_ he'd meant, only that he was being a coward and dodging the question.

He should've kept it to small talk. He should've known better than to engage a drunk Steve Rogers. Bucky would've had to plead temporary insanity.

The screen on his phone lit up with an incoming call.

 _Steve_.

His phone was on silent, but Bucky still froze in panic. Steve was calling him. Bucky was so lost staring at the screen that he almost missed his stop.

Steve tried calling again as Bucky got off the train and exited the station. He couldn't pick up, he felt panicked enough as it was, and he had to walk home. Preferably without having his phone on display in the street.

So he shoved his phone deep inside his coat, and resolved not to look at it until he got home. Bucky took his headphones off too. He felt safer being able to hear what was going on around him at this late at night.

Being Christmas, everything was quiet in his neighborhood. Nothing open, no one out walking. And it wasn't white or pretty, just dark and cold. Bucky walked quickly. Just because he couldn't see anyone, didn't mean there weren't lurkers in alleyways.

When Bucky had marched home and gotten into his building, safely shutting the door behind him, he fished out his keys and risked a glance at his phone. Five missed calls and three new messages.

_Jeez, Rogers. Give a guy a break._

He trudged up the stairs to his floor.

Sometimes Bucky really resented having a cellphone, as it meant being unable to successfully ignore things.

He let himself into the apartment and turned on some lights. Clint was still away. All Bucky wanted was some food, a shower, and his bed.

Toast seemed the quickest and most filling option, so Bucky shoved bread into the toaster. While he waited he drummed his fingers on the counter. He still had his coat on, but he pulled off his hat and scarf.

Not the pudding hat, Bucky wasn't brave or foolhardy enough to wear that out in public; it was still in his bed where he'd left it.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky checked his phone, reading the messages from Steve. The first message asked –demanded, more like– why Bucky wasn't replying. The last two messages were checking if he was okay.

Bucky blew out a weary sigh. _Okay, here goes_.

 _Steve_ , he wrote, _I'm fine. I just got home and I'm exhausted. Can we please not do this right now?_

Bucky sent the message, and closed his eyes as he breathed.

The toast popping up made him jump. Steve didn't reply instantly, and Bucky's toast had gone cold before he calmed down enough to butter it and take a bite. Bucky remembered the few times in high school where one moment things had been okay with Steve, then the next he was blowing up at him out of nowhere. Always zero to sixty. Bucky had put it down to hormones when they'd been teenagers, as he'd struggled with low moods and irritability too, but Steve...?

Steve was something else once he got riled up. He'd never back down; it was like he wasn't afraid of anything, whether it was another guy's fist, or a tough conversation. Steve was never afraid, and sometimes that in itself was terrifying to deal with.

When the reply came through, Bucky winced as he looked at his phone, his heart hammering.

 _Glad ur home_ , Steve replied. _OK, Buck. Whatever you want. I'm sorry, OK?_

Bucky blinked at the message, re-reading it.

_What the...?_

Steven Grant Rogers, actually backing down? Bucky couldn't believe it.

Then a new message came through:

_Anytime you want to talk, Buck. We can do that too. It's up to you._

Bucky huffed to himself. Steve could never resist laying down the gauntlet.

“Okay, okay,” he muttered under his breath, typing a hasty, _OK, goodnight,_ in reply, before putting his phone in air-plane mode so it couldn't receive any more messages.

Maybe now he could calm down enough to get some much needed sleep.

 

~ ~ ~

 

09:01 Steve:

So I had this dream where I was mad at you + u went away :'( then I saw the texts from last night. I'm sorry I got all serious when u were finishing work, that was shitty. Hope ur OK.

 

09:20 Steve:

You working today?

 

13:30 Bucky:

Yeah, late shift only. Epic lay in. You at the shelter?

 

13:39 Steve:

Yeah another day shift :) You deserve the sleep in. Hope you have a good day Buck.

 

13:40 Bucky:

Thanks Steve. U too.

 

13:41 Steve:

:) xxx

 

~ ~ ~

 

The next two days, Bucky half expected Steve to text him something awkward again, and tensed up every time he received a new message, but thankfully he didn't. Steve did message a couple times, but kept it to small talk. Bucky was relieved. He wasn't ready to have A Serious Talk with Steve when he couldn't be sure where he stood right now.

He'd kind of assumed any actual talking would happen when Steve was...

Well, when he wasn't with _someone else_.

It was a lot to take in, especially when Bucky'd been working overtime and not sleeping great. He upped his caffeine intake that week, and tried to cut down on snacks and fatty food. As it was the end of the month he was broke anyway, so no pizzas for him. He'd hoped his diet of ramen would help him fit into those jeans again, but come the 29th it was still a squeeze getting them on.

Apparently this was his life now.

Bucky would've asked Angie if she'd come to karaoke, but she was doing her Christmas show all week. Bucky really should've gone to support her, but he was struggling with social interaction enough as it was. The only reason he was even setting foot outside on his first day off was because of Steve.

Steve had texted the address of the bar to Bucky, and the time. And so had Riley, Sam's boyfriend, over Facebook. He'd sent Bucky a friend request after Steve's bachelor party, and had liked a few of Bucky's pictures.

Bucky didn't think much about it. He was already friends with Sam, after all.

As Riley and Steve had said, they were starting early tonight and eating too, as the venue had a restaurant. Bucky would've skipped the food and gone later, as there was no way he could afford to eat out, but Riley had said he was paying for it.

Bucky felt really awkward about that, until he got to the venue and walked inside. The smell of barbecue hit him right away, and as a waiter dashed past bearing trays of wings and fries, Bucky's stomach rumbled in appreciation.

There was a large flaming grill behind the bar area, cooking up orders. Seating and booths were situated across the room. The place had a pleasant atmosphere and music playing.

Not to mention it smelled amazing.

Bucky spotted Sam and Riley in a booth, and headed over.

“Hey,” he said, approaching. He saw only two beers on the table. So, Steve wasn't here yet. Sam and Riley greeted him warmly, standing up to shake his hand.

Bucky felt a bit overwhelmed, considering he'd only met them once before.

“Uh, I brought these for you.” Bucky offered the plastic bag he'd been carrying to Riley, who peered inside.

“Oh, God!” he laughed. “Chocolate! And lots of it.”

“Chocolate?” Sam leaned across the table to see. “Ooh, these look _good_.”

“They're mine!” Riley held the bag close, laughing when Sam raised his eyebrows at him. “Best gift ever.” He gestured for Bucky to sit on his side of the booth with him. “You can share with me.”

Bucky sat, and took his coat and scarf off before he felt too hot. His cheeks were already burning because he was nervous. “I didn't... I mean, I wasn't sure what you'd like, or anything.”

He didn't mention that the chocolates were re-gifts from the home. A lot of candy got given to residents from relatives who had no idea their tastes had changed or if candy upset their digestion, and Bucky often got candy passed onto him.

Which was likely one reason he'd put on weight since working there, but this holiday season he'd tried not to eat _all_ the candy he came across.

Well, maybe just a few.

“Trust me,” Sam said with a smile, “we like chocolate. Thanks, man.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Riley told him.

Bucky nodded, and took his hat off. It was warm, and Bucky quickly ran his fingers through his hair and pulled it back, ready to snap a band around it to get it off his neck.

“I just can't get over your hair.” Riley touched a hand to Bucky's hair before he could pull the band on, making him jump in surprise. His hair fell loose again, and Riley laughed. “Sorry.” He held his hands up. “Didn't mean to startle you, man. You just don't see enough cute guys with good hair, y'know? _Ow_.”

From the way Riley flinched, and the look that passed between him and Sam, Bucky assumed Sam had just kicked him under the table.

Bucky had no idea what to do.

Thankfully, Sam smoothed it over. “Let's order a platter. I'm starving, and Steve is taking forever.”

“Okay, you got it.” Riley looked up, scanning the room. “Where'd that hot waiter go?”

Sam shot a dry look to Bucky, a silent _see what I have to put up with?_

Bucky smiled back, though a little uneasy. While Riley was distracted signalling a waiter, Bucky hastily pulled his hair back and secured it in a bun. It wasn't the first time someone had gone ahead and touched his hair without asking first. Bucky didn't like it all that much. One reason he liked the winter months was that wearing hats, he could hide under them more, especially out in public.

Shame the bar and grill was so warm.

“You want a beer?” Riley asked Bucky, and without waiting for an answer, told the waiter, “We'll get three more beers. And the mixed sharing platter.”

When the waiter left, and Riley commented to Sam about how hot he was on a scale of one to ten, Sam interrupted. “Riley,” he said, with a touch of amusement, “we're not in a club. But if you dial it down here, then I will take you to a club later.”

Riley laughed, holding eye contact with Sam. “Oh, you will, huh?”

“Yeah, I will.”

Bucky looked away, feeling awkward. Where was Steve?

“Do you like clubs?” Riley turned to Bucky, only to receive another kick under the table. “Ouch. Aw, c'mon.”

“Can't take you anywhere,” Sam grumbled.

 

By the time Steve arrived, they had finished off most of a platter of fried and grilled starters –with the best barbecue sauce Bucky had ever tasted– and had moved onto pitchers of beer.

Bucky felt guilty thinking about the bill, and kind of awkward as a third wheel. And awkward again whenever Riley flirted with him... So when Steve was suddenly at their booth, Bucky was relieved.

Sam got up to greet Steve with a hug, and Riley did the same. Bucky figured it'd look weird if he didn't too, so he stood and waited, smiling at Steve when he turned to Bucky. “Hey,” he said, and when Steve hugged him he hugged back tight.

“Thanks for coming, Buck,” Steve said against his ear before pulling away.

Bucky smiled at him, feeling his face heat up. “Where you been, Rogers?”

“Yeah, man,” Sam said as they sat. “What was the hold up?”

Steve seemed to pause as Riley sat back down next to Bucky, a blank expression on his face as he watched. Steve slowly took his coat off before sliding in beside Sam. He smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. “Yeah... I'm sorry to keep you all waiting on me. Something came up.”

“Uh huh.” Sam nodded. “Say no more.” He pulled up the menu for Steve to see, urging him to choose something quick.

No, Bucky thought, _do_ say more. He wanted to know what Steve had been doing.

Then again, maybe he didn't.

Bucky stared down at his plate and the remaining curly fries, trying not to think about what Steve had been doing or who he'd been with before he came here.

“Let's eat,” Sam said, signalling for a waiter. “Time for the meat round.”

Riley turned to Bucky and said suggestively, “My favourite round in any situation.”

Bucky gave him a flat look in reply. He wasn't going to bite, if that's what Riley was hoping for.

Sam cleared his throat. “Darcy joining us later, Steve?”

Bucky glanced up, and caught Steve looking at him before he answered Sam. “She said she's going dancing, but will try. I'm guessing not, because she already drunk texted me a selfie twenty minutes ago.”

“Is that your TA person?” Bucky asked.

Steve grinned. “Yeah. We don't work together every day, but we get on pretty good.” He pulled out his phone and brought up a picture. “Here she is.”

They passed Steve's phone around, smiling at the close up of a woman's face, in the middle of laughing, surrounded by people.

“Have we met her?” Riley asked.

“Sam has, you haven't yet. She also works with Jane and Bruce.”

“Ah. Did I meet Bruce?”

“Riley flies a lot,” Sam said to Bucky. “Sometimes I gotta book a flight just to see him.”

“Hey, we're due a vacation.” Riley grinned at Sam, eyes crinkling fondly.

They were clearly happy together, Bucky thought. He didn't spend much time around couples, and it was a little jarring to be in a situation with one now.

At least Steve was here too.

Bucky looked up, catching Steve's eye. When he smiled, Bucky smiled back.

“What about your friend, Buck?” Steve asked. “She coming?”

“Angie? No, she scored the lead in this musical number.”

Steve nodded. “Another time, then. And your room-mate? Clint, right?”

“Still away. Think he's back this week.”

And hopefully he'd buy some food, Bucky thought.

“Just us, then.” Riley grinned. “Get your singing voices ready.”

“Uh...” Bucky looked between Riley and Steve. “No, I'm just spectating.”

“Aw, hell, no!” Riley shook his head. “Everyone has to join in. Them's the rules.”

Bucky looked to Steve, pleading with his eyes, but Steve only grinned. “C'mon, Buck. You used to love hogging the mic.”

Bucky frowned at him. “Screw you, Rogers. I'd have to be drunk to sing, and I don't plan on drinking more than this beer.”

“Challenge accepted.” Riley waved his hand to the nearest waiter. “Hey there! Can we get a large pitcher of margarita's over here?”

“What? No...” Bucky tried to say, but Sam spoke up.

“C'mon, a little cocktail won't hurt. And there's only one rule,” he said with a laugh, “and it is, no posting to Facebook.”

“Huh?” Bucky didn't understand. “Why not?”

“Because I don't wanna get in trouble,” Sam explained, then nodded to Steve. “And he don't wanna get in trouble neither.”

“Trouble?”

“Yeah, for going out and not visiting the dreaded in-laws,” Riley told Bucky. “I, however, have done my duty. I'm a good boy!”

“Oh, shut up.” Sam rolled his eyes. “Your job is easy because all my family do is feed you and fuss over you.”

“Hey, it's a perk to being with you.” Riley elbowed Bucky in the ribs. “He likes to feed me too.”

Bucky didn't particularly like being elbowed, but he kept his face neutral. “How did you guys meet?”

“Oh, it's corny.” Riley looked shy now. “Sam was my therapist.”

“Yeah, it's corny and it's true,” Sam said. “Although, when I knew I had feelings for this dumbass, I told him I couldn't be his therapist any more.”

“Yeah, now I just complain at him for free,” Riley teased. “And you came into this knowing what my family were like, Sam Wilson. You knew what you were getting into, so you can't complain.”

Sam huffed a laugh. “As long as they stay at least two states away, I'm cool.”

Bucky almost wanted to ask what the deal was, but he could probably guess. Conservative family was top of the list. Maybe he and Riley had more in common than he'd thought.

All this talk of family had him glancing over at Steve, checking in. Steve could be hard to read, but Bucky knew a lot of his tells. He noticed Steve seemed tense.

That didn't necessarily mean it was due to the topic at hand, but Bucky resolved to steer the conversation anyway. “So, where's the karaoke take place? I didn't see a stage.”

“Oh, past the bar area.” Sam pointed. “I got us a booth booked for seven thirty.”

“A booth?” Bucky echoed. “So it's not just one big audience?”

“Nah, man. Just us.”

“Oh.” He was surprised.

That changed everything.

 

Several margaritas later, and tucked away in a private booth, Bucky found himself enjoying karaoke for the first time in his life. It'd always seemed such a daunting concept, but in the small, dark booth with only friends, a lot of disco lights and a fresh pitcher of margaritas on the table, Bucky really liked it.

Riley had started by 'warming up', as he put it, with Bryan Adams numbers. Bucky hadn't realised Riley and Sam were closer to forty, and knew many of the same pop hits he did, and they'd all ended up shouting along to Bryan Adams choruses.

Until Sam got up and forcibly took the microphone away, telling Riley to sit down. “Let daddy show y'all how it's done,” Sam announced into the mic, and he selected his number from the stage-side machine

Sam sang _Knock On Wood_ , and not only that, he danced too. Unlike Riley's goofy dancing, Sam knew how to move. It was hot, and Bucky was more than a little impressed.

Riley jumped back up after, insisting they do a duet. They pressed in close as they bickered over the selection. Bucky thought they were kind of adorable, and he didn't even usually like couples much.

Riley picked up a second mic, and they began the duet, hilariously hamming it up to _A Whole New World_ from Aladdin. Bucky laughed along and applauded loudly when they were finished.

Sam beckoned Steve up onto the tiny stage, and after Bucky pushed him to go, he reluctantly joined them. Sticking with the Disney theme, Sam sang the _Under The Sea_ song to Steve, while Riley goofed around and joined in with the chorus.

Bucky's sides hurt from laughing. He didn't know what was funnier, Sam's Sebastian the crab impression, or Steve's awkward dancing as he joined in.

When they were done, Steve took a mic and ordered Sam and Riley off the tiny stage. “Oh, he's doing it willingly!” Sam said in amazement as he stepped down. Riley whistled and whooped, while Bucky shouted, “Go, team Rogers!”

Steve flipped him the bird, and waited for his song to cue up.

Riley and Sam cracked up laughing when _Poker Face_ started. Bucky'd had no idea Steve was into Lady Gaga. Steve knew all the words, and even did some of the dancing... kinda stiffly, but the effort was good. Sam had rolled over into Riley's lap from laughing.

Bucky grinned watching Steve. He was having a lot of flashbacks of them dancing around in his childhood bedroom and his toy mic.

Adult Steve with a mic, and in another of his obscenely tight shirts, was real hot. Bucky found he had to stop thinking about Steve right now, and think about work instead.

Thinking of naked old dudes instead of Steve helped a little. Bucky could keep it together, he was good at suppressing things.

_Naked old men. Naked old men._

_Don't think about Steve naked. Definitely don't do that._

_Dammit._

Bucky ended up having to pinch himself instead.

They all gave Steve a standing ovation when he was done. “Now that's what I'm talking about!” Sam cheered.

Steve offered the mic, and Riley took it up. They went back and forth between the three of them a few times, when Riley got up for his next song and said, “I'd like to dedicate this song to my wonderful partner, Sam.”

Sam smirked, but when the song started and Riley started leaping about dancing, he groaned and rubbed a hand over his face.

Riley started rapping, trying to keep up the energetic dance at the same time, and mostly failed.

Bucky was in tears.

“Why do I know this?” Steve asked.

“It's... in... the _Turtles_ movie,” Bucky told him, gasping for breath.

Sam booed. “Get off!”

Riley kept dancing, getting words wrong and laughing, clearly enjoying himself.

“He found out I went to see MC Hammer as a kid, and won't let me forget it,” Sam grumbled.

An idea came to Bucky. He leaned over to Sam and told him, “I know a song for Steve.”

When Riley had finished and worn himself out, Sam got up and shooed him offstage. Bucky went up to the little machine to search for the song. It boasted nearly every song ever made, now was time to put it to the test.

Sam ordered into the mic, “Steve, get yo' ass back up here.”

Steve did as he was told, and once Bucky had found the right song, they handed Steve the mic and vacated the stage to leave him with the opening beats of Vanilla Ice and the _Ninja Rap_.

Steve looked perplexed, then checked the prompt screen and began to grin. “Oh, God,” he said into the mic. “The memories.”

“Shut up and sing it!” Bucky called.

Steve did the rap. He read from the screen, but surprisingly got it all perfectly. Until he cracked up halfway through. “These lyrics stink!” he complained.

“It's Vanilla Ice!” Sam shouted in reply. They all joined in for the chorus. It was too funny not to.

When Steve was done, he went to select his own song. “I'm picking my own from now on,” he said into the mic. “This band I went to see... _twice_ , actually, with Bucky.” He pointed over to Bucky, just to drive it home.

Bucky was cringing already. “No. Don't.”

“In fact,” Steve went on –like an amateur stand-up– “Bucky had a pink head-band he used to wear that said Bon Jovi on it.”

“No, I didn't!” Bucky insisted. “That was Becca's! I just borrowed it.”

“Stop whining and get up here,” Steve told him.

Bucky tried to hide in his seat, but Sam and Riley pushed him to get up. He was cajoled onto the stage and handed a mic.

“C'mon, Buck.” Steve smiled at him. “You've actually got the hair for it now.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Shut up, and step aside, Rogers. You asked for this.”

He sang his first song with Steve, and tried not to get too carried away, but... Well, he was kinda drunk, and it was fun.

They sang three Bon Jovi songs together, like total dorks, then Bucky got a taste for cheesy rock and found them _Mama's Fallen Angel_ by Poison.

Anything to keep singing with Steve, to see how happy he looked as he sang, gazing back at Bucky. It was all so carefree, they could've been kids again singing in Bucky's bedroom.

He had to keep reminding himself that they weren't alone.

When Sam announced that their time was up, Bucky was actually disappointed. They headed back to the bar area, but it was more crowded now. Riley offered to go to the bar for them all, but Steve shook his head. “It's so busy, Riley. Don't worry about it.”

“Let's go to a club!” Riley suggested. “There's a couple good ones near here. One just two blocks down.”

Bucky paled at the thought of going to a club. He was already anticipating undoing his tight jeans in the comfort of his own home, before he burst out of them by force. “I'm gonna have to bail,” he said. “But I had a great time. Thanks.”

“Our pleasure,” Sam told him, as Riley leaned in to hug him.

Bucky hadn't really prepared for a drunken hug, but he went with it. He had warmed to Riley over the course of the evening.

Riley hugged him close, then pulled back to grin, a drunk look on his face. “Sure you don't wanna come? I promise it'll be fun.”

Bucky paused, unsure. He felt caught between a knee-jerk refusal, and a warm slither of arousal that suggested he would enjoy going to a club with these guys.

“Riley,” Steve, and Sam, both said at the same time, moving to extract Riley from Bucky.

Bucky held back a laugh. He could take care of himself, but it was kinda funny how both Sam and Steve were being mother hens.

Sam pulled Riley to him and kept an arm firmly around his waist. “I'ma take this one dancing. If you guys want to come, you're more than welcome.”

Riley held onto Sam, and nodded vigorously. “Yup. And we are awesome on the dance-floor.”

“We're good, but thanks,” Steve told them, then he turned to Bucky. “Are you getting the train? I can walk to the station with you.”

“Sure,” Bucky agreed.

“You both okay to get home?” Sam asked. “Can I call you a cab?”

“I'm not that drunk,” Steve laughed.

“Me neither,” Bucky assured him. “We'll be fine.”

Sam looked between them, then seemed on the verge of saying something, before shaking his head and smiling. “Get home safe, both of you.” He went to hug Steve, then Bucky, saying goodbye.

Riley hugged them too, then he and Sam turned left out of the bar, while Steve and Bucky took a right, headed to the station.

It was cold, but not freezing. Bucky had his hat back on anyway.

“Where's the hat I gave you?” Steve asked, walking by his side.

“At home.” Bucky grinned. “Such a stylish gift.”

“Only the best,” Steve quipped.

They walked along in companionable silence, moving aside for other pedestrians and bumping shoulders occasionally. When they reached the station, Steve checked his phone.

“It's only ten thirty.”

Bucky snorted a laugh. “Yeah, and it's past my bed time.”

“You working tomorrow.”

“No, thank fuck. One more day off.”

“Oh, right.”

Bucky checked the time for his train. “My next train is... shit, six minutes. Which way you headed?”

“Um...” Steve shifted on the spot. “Here's an idea...”

Bucky stilled, held his breath.

“...what say I come back with you, get take-out, and watch a movie?” Steve asked. “It's okay if you don't want to. Just... just thought I'd ask.”

Bucky breathed out in relief. Like he was gonna say no.

“C'mon, Rogers.” He took Steve's elbow to herd him up to the platform. “You're buying, though. I'll get the next one.”

“Deal.” Steve grinned. Bucky didn't think he imagined how much happier Steve suddenly was, like a kid on Christmas day. “Can we watch the _Turtles_ movie?”

“Which one?”

“The stupid one with Vanilla Ice.”

“Ugh. That was _Secret of The Ooze_.”

They laughed as they ran for the train.

 

After two dumb nineties movies, a lot of Pad Thai, a couple beers and a few hours later, Bucky was content and also very sleepy.

He'd convinced himself that this visit from Steve, exciting though it was, needed to stay platonic. That was clearly the best course of action for both of them. It had been nice just hanging out with Steve, winding down after a good night out, like they were just a regular couple at home.

Bucky thought if he played his cards right, that could even be a reality.

If he was lucky, and if things played out like Steve had said when he'd first brought all that up.

Somehow the thought of being together didn't seem as terrifying tonight. Maybe Bucky was drunk.

Yes, that was likely.

“I'm going to bed,” he declared, before his wandering mind complicated things any further. He went to fetch blankets and a pillow for Steve, dumped them on top of him as he sat dozing on the couch.

Steve smiled up at him sleepily. “Thanks, Buck. See you in the morning.”

“Yeah. Well, maybe not till midday,” Bucky said. “Night.”

He went to use the bathroom, then shut himself away in his bedroom to get undressed. It wasn't that warm, so he put on a soft t-shirt, and a clean pair of boxer-shorts before getting into bed.

And then he stared at the ceiling for what felt like a lifetime.

Steve was on his couch.

 _Steve_.

And Bucky felt restless.

He debated his options. One; stay in bed, sleep. Two; stay in bed, jerk off, then sleep.

Or, option three...

No, he really shouldn't go out there and talk to Steve. Not tonight.

 _Stay in bed, Barnes. Leave Steve alone_.

Bucky debated some more. His dick was on the verge of getting hard if he thought about it any longer.

It occurred to Bucky that Clint wasn't home. Steve could sleep in his double bed. Had to be more comfortable than the old, lumpy couch. Bucky pushed back the covers and got up. He marched over to his door and opened it.

And shouted in alarm because Steve was standing right there, hand raised as if to knock. Only it took Bucky's groggy brain longer to process it was Steve, and Steve must've had the same problem as he shouted in surprise too.

They both stood there, breathing hard in startled relief. Steve had grabbed onto his own chest in his surprise.

“Steve!” Bucky shoved him on the shoulder. “Fuck, you nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“Jeez, sorry.” Steve was still clutching his left pec. “You shaved about ten years off my life.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Why are you hovering outside my door?”

“I wasn't _hovering_ , I was about to knock. Then you came flying out.”

“Alright, alright. What d'you want?”

“Uh...” Steve looked at him, his gaze travelling down Bucky's form.

Bucky flushed, and tugged at his t-shirt to hide his shorts. “Clint's not here,” he cut in. “I was gonna say, why not take his bed. He won't mind.”

Steve barked a laugh, fiddling with his hands. “He'd mind if he came home and found a strange man in his bed.”

“Yeah, well, straight guys don't appreciate things like that,” Bucky joked, and they shared an awkward smile.

“I'll... I'll just go back to the couch.” Steve gestured over his shoulder. “G'night, Buck.”

“Night, Steve.”

Steve turned to go, and Bucky began to close his door. The devil must've made him pull it open again, and ask, “So, what did you want?”

Steve turned to look at him. He still had his jeans on, and a borrowed t-shirt from Bucky to sleep in. He was hunching in on himself a bit, looking for all the world like he could do with some company. “Nothing, it's okay.”

Bucky huffed a breath. He recognised this side of Steve too, the one who was too shy to ask for what he wanted. Bucky shoved his door open fully. “Come here, you dork.”

Steve approached, and Bucky held out his arms for him, forgetting how tall Steve was until Steve stepped in for the hug. They jostled a little to fit, and Steve wrapped his thick arms around Bucky. He held on for a long time.

“Thanks, Buck,” he said quietly.

“Anytime,” Bucky told him, his face resting on Steve's shoulder. It was actually pretty comfy, despite how muscly Steve was. “You wanna watch more stupid _Turtles_ movies tomorrow?”

Steve started laughing quietly, the vibrations shaking them.

“I'll take that as a yes,” Bucky said.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Okay.” Cool, this was okay, Bucky thought.

Unfortunately at that moment, Bucky's dick decided now was the perfect time to get hard, pressed close to Steve, and with Bucky still feeling a bit drunk.

 _Fuck. Not now._ Bucky started to pull back and, catching the expectant look on Steve's face, changed his mind and grabbed a fistful of Steve's shirt instead, pulling him in. Steve must've wanted it, as he tilted his face and then they were kissing, deep, open mouthed kisses.

He was kissing Steve.

It felt so right and so different all at once. Steve was huge, his thick arms wrapped around Bucky, pulling him up on tiptoe and their bodies flush together. Bucky gasped into Steve's mouth, feeling his cock rub against Steve and the hard bulge in his jeans. Bucky shifted, caged in Steve's arms, tilting his hips to get more friction on his cock. He wanted this, wanted it bad, his body thrummed with want. He didn't even care when Steve's hands groped around his middle, slipping under his t-shirt and squeezing his soft flesh.

Steve hummed into his mouth, angling his face a different way and pressing his tongue past Bucky's lips, gently probing and searching out Bucky's tongue. Steve had always been good at kissing, even when they'd started out and Bucky had been Steve's first kiss.

He was so damn big though, it was messing with Bucky's senses... in a _good_ way. Bucky liked how big Steve was, how solid he felt. His hips bucked into Steve's, and Bucky was dangerously close to the edge already. He reluctantly broke the kiss, breathing heavily. “Steve... are you... are you sure about this?”

He just had to know. Nothing had really happened yet, they could stop now and come back to this when they were sober. Bucky knew that's what they should be doing.

But Steve made the decision for him by reaching down to grab him under his ass, hoisting him up and walking him across the room like he weighed nothing.

“Fuck, Steve,” Bucky huffed into his ear, squashed against Steve's hard chest and clinging on. “Don't put your back out.”

Steve laughed, then walked smack into Bucky's bed so they both tumbled onto it, Steve landing on top of him like a five ton elephant and making Bucky grunt. “Ow, fuck, I stubbed my toe,” Steve complained.

“Fuck your toe.” Bucky pushed Steve to get off him. “You just flattened me, you asshole.”

“It really hurts,” Steve insisted, but moved to reposition himself. There wasn't really anywhere for him to go, and the only light was from the open doorway. “What the...? How small is your bed?”

“Shut up.” Bucky moved so he was laying on his side, jostling with Steve until he did the same. It was a tight squeeze.

Bucky cursed all his life choices, particularly the one where he hadn't gotten a double bed for this room yet.

Steve caught his eye in the gloom, faces pressed close together. He grinned, and it made Bucky start to laugh. “Wow, this feels like the good old days,” Steve said.

“Fuck off,” Bucky told him, trying not to laugh any more. “You weren't the size of a mammoth back then.”

“A mammoth?” Steve snorted. “Always such a sweet talker, James Barnes.”

“Shut up, and kiss me.” Bucky kissed Steve, cupping his face with one hand, and the kissing resumed like it'd never stopped. Bucky sucked on Steve's tongue this time and Steve let him. Steve was just the best kisser, he really was, and he never squashed his nose into Bucky's face like most guy's seemed to. He was too good to be true, Bucky thought deliriously, clinging onto Steve like he never wanted to let go. His dick was clearly thrilled they were in bed and grinding together, it was rock hard and straining against Bucky's shorts.

He made a noise of impatience, hands skimming down Steve's body to find his belt buckle. There was no finesse, no lingering, just a desperate, primal need. Bucky had to break the kiss in order to glance down and see what he was doing, grappling with Steve's belt. Finally he got it open, and popped the button on his jeans. The zipper came down easily.

Steve shifted to sit up, and pulled his t-shirt off over his head. He moved to get on top of Bucky, his perfect chest naked and on display. Bucky stared. He almost couldn't believe how fucking ripped Steve was, how defined his pecs were. “What the fuck, Steve,” he murmured, hands reaching up of their own accord, but Steve was already leaning forward, trying to wriggle out of his jeans, which placed his chest right at Bucky's nose.

Bucky swallowed, staring down the most gorgeous pair of tits on a man he'd ever seen with his own eyes.

“Bucky,” Steve huffed, balancing on his hands. “I can't get these off.” When Bucky only gave a choked off sound in reply, Steve shook the bed deliberately. “ _Bucky_. Get 'em off me.”

“Alright, alright,” Bucky muttered, feeling too hot to think clearly. If he were an engine he'd definitely have overheated. “Hang on.” He groped down Steve's body and tried to push the jeans off his hips. They should've gone easily, given how slim Steve was, but they were _tight_. “Fucking... ugh,” Bucky grunted, as the jeans refused to budge. “Never wear these again, Steve.”

Steve grunted too, trying to help by shimmying around. He ended up squashing his right tit into Bucky's cheek and eye, and Bucky stilled in surprise.

Yep, that was definitely his brain short-circuiting.

“Uh... _Steve_...” He wriggled under him, his cock desperate for attention. “You're doing this on purpose.”

“I am not,” Steve argued. “They're almost off, just push 'em a bit more.”

“I swear, Rogers...” Bucky had to lean into Steve's bare chest in order to reach, but he finally succeeded in pushing the jeans down. He also opened his mouth and lightly bit into Steve's nipple, making him yelp.

“Did you just bite me?”

“What? No...” Bucky nipped at his skin again. “Must be some other guy.”

Steve shoved him down, settling on top of Bucky again. “Yeah, a wiseguy.” He pressed his hips into Bucky's, grinding their cocks together. Bucky made approving noises, opening his legs to let Steve closer. He still had his underwear on, like Bucky did, but this was familiar and felt good.

Grinding together under the covers in their underwear had been one of their favorite things. Also, it'd been easier to clean up back then.

Steve balanced on his elbows as he dipped his head to kiss Bucky. They made out as Steve rocked his hips, rubbing their cocks together through thin fabric. Bucky groaned, low and throaty, so close to losing it.

Then Steve, the asshole, slowed down.

He kept kissing, even when Bucky pushed his hips up at Steve to make him go faster. Steve only pulled away, pushing up on his elbows and holding himself up there. He grinned down at Bucky.

“Steve. Get back here.” Bucky tried tugging him down, but Steve held firm. He rocked slowly against Bucky, the pace not enough to get off.

“What's the hurry?” he teased.

Bucky huffed with frustration, and reached up to tweak Steve's nipples, as they were right there on display. Steve's mouth dropped open, but he remained upright.

Bucky knew how to play dirty, especially with Steve. He pinched Steve's nipples with his fingers, tugged on them as they hardened under his touch. Steve gasped, and his arms shook, but he didn't collapse. A flush broke over his neck and chest, only noticeable in the dark because Steve's skin was so fair. Still Steve didn't cave.

Bucky frowned. “What gives? Your nipples were so sensitive...”

“They... still are,” Steve breathed out. “Now I... like it more.”

A look passed between them, and Bucky blinked in surprise. “Fuck,” he muttered, as he started pinching and pulling Steve's nipples again, faster this time. Speed must've been key, as Steve shuddered with a moan, and finally plunged back down to grind against Bucky. He held himself up just enough for Bucky to keep pinching and twisting his nipples, then cup his soft, rounded pecs and squeeze them together. They looked so fucking amazing, Bucky couldn't help but wonder what it'd feel like to push his dick between them, hold them tight together and fuck them until he came all over Steve's chest. He whimpered at the thought.

“I'm so close, Buck,” Steve gasped, pistoning his hips.

“Fuck. Me, too.” Bucky was right on the edge, was trying to wait for Steve, but it felt too damn good and he was overwhelmed. His orgasm rushed through him, seizing his body in pleasure as he came, and his fingers pinched Steve's nipples hard.

Steve cried out, hips stuttering as he peaked too. Bucky watched him, loved seeing his face twist up in pleasure, loved hearing the sounds he made. He felt such a rush knowing that it was him who'd got Steve there, that he'd been the one to get him off.

“That's it,” Bucky soothed, breathless himself. “That's... perfect.” Steve listed to the side, so Bucky held tight to his nipples to keep him in place. “Don't crush me,” he warned.

“Ah! I- I won't.” Steve leaned into the touch. “Oh, God, that's... Oh, yeah.”

“Like this, huh?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Mmm.” Bucky kept playing with Steve's nipples as they both came down from it. He watched Steve gasping in great lungfuls of air, his magnificent chest expanding with each breath. “Uh... so,” he began, before his brain came back online, “does this mean every time I gave you a nipple twister you actually _enjoyed_ it?”

Steve grinned down at Bucky. “Hey, you kept giving them. You enjoyed it too.” He moved to get down, and Bucky let go so Steve could lay next to him.

“Yeah, but... I didn't know you were getting off on it,” Bucky grumbled, his anxiety kicking in.

Steve didn't seem to notice, as he began taking his briefs off –another thing they'd always done right after spilling their load– and Bucky didn't think he could deal with someone else's bare cock right now, so he grabbed for the blankets and yanked them up quick.

Steve accepted the blankets covering him, and took his briefs off under the covers. “Where can I put these?” he asked, holding out his briefs and balling them up.

Bucky peered at his floor, relatively clear of junk. There was a small laundry basket of dirty clothes by the closet. “In that.” Bucky pointed it out, and Steve tossed them over.

Bucky made a mental note to do laundry tomorrow. Then he shimmied out of his shorts too, because they were damp, and threw them in the same direction.

As soon as he laid back down, Steve enveloped him in a full body hug. It was the only way they'd fit on the single bed.

“I wasn't getting off on it,” Steve mumbled into Bucky's neck. “Not exactly.”

“Huh?”

“The nipple twisters.” Steve hugged him tight, threw a leg over Bucky's.

And wow, okay, that was Steve's bare cock on Bucky's hip.

Bucky went awkwardly still. “Right...”

“I just liked you touching me,” Steve went on. “But not the tickling. Let's never start that again, okay.”

Bucky wasn't paying attention. He was busy worrying how he was going to share a one person bed with Steve, and Steve's huge, naked dick.

Which still felt kinda hard, actually.

Before Bucky could even gather his thoughts, his brain was providing him images of Steve holding him down and fucking him with his hard cock. Bucky's breath caught, and a bead of sweat rolled off his temple.

They'd never actually... done that. They hadn't fucked. Bucky wasn't sure why, maybe they'd been too shy to even consider exploring asses back then. Mostly it'd just been about dicks, because it was hard to ignore dicks, they were always there and getting in the way.

Maybe Steve wanted to fuck now, Bucky wondered.

Well... not right now. Later...

Or, maybe the next time they were drunk, so Bucky wasn't overthinking every little thing like he always seemed to.

“Um. Steve... we're not gonna fit in here.” Bucky shifted awkwardly. “One of us has to get up.”

Steve made a noise of protest and clung tighter. Asshole was already falling asleep.

Bucky nudged him. “ _Steve_.”

Steve grunted again, strong arms holding Bucky in place like a vice. “Just forty winks, Buck.”

“Steve, I'm serious.” Bucky sighed, but tried to relax into Steve's hold, because he was kinda stuck. “There is no way I'll fall asleep like this.”

 

~ ~ ~

 

Bucky fell asleep like that. He woke up sometime around mid morning, needing the bathroom. When he woke up to an empty bed, his heart sank.

Where was Steve?

Bucky padded barefoot to the bathroom, still half asleep. He did a double-take when he saw the human-shaped lump on the couch.

 _Oh_.

Bucky crept closer, just to make sure it was Steve, not Clint home early.

It was definitely Steve. Even if his face and mussed blond hair wasn't poking out from the blanket, Bucky would recognise that snuffly snore anywhere. After all those nights he'd held a pillow over his head when Steve's sinuses were bad, especially during allergy season, Bucky knew that snore like the back of his hand.

He smiled to himself, and quietly went to the bathroom.

When he was done he washed his hands, brushed his teeth again, and checked his reflection over the sink. Bit rumpled, could do with a shave, too.

Didn't Steve want to share a bed with him? Bucky avoided his own eyes in the mirror.

 _Don't be dumb_ , he told himself, _it's a single bed, for crying out loud._ Two grown-ass men could never fit in that. And maybe Steve's back still hurt at night, maybe he'd needed to stretch out with more space. If they'd both stayed on the single, they'd both have gotten aches and pains.

_Don't overreact._

Bucky fetched himself a glass of water from the kitchen, and crept back to his room. The sun was up, but it was raining outside and looked grey and miserable. If he went back to sleep for a bit, he wouldn't have to deal with anything for a while longer.

Bucky liked that plan.

He got back into bed and curled up under his duvet. He really hoped Steve would still be there when he woke up.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> And, from the sublime: [Partners in Kryme](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YceSXH9kRrE) (first Turtles movie, classic)
> 
> To the ridiculous: [Vanilla Ice](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BRtxvbNoJY4), the ninja rap. 
> 
> Oh, the 90s!


	5. Take Me To Bed or Lose Me Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The slightly awkward morning after, with Top Gun feels, Steve Rogers being a little shit, drama at work, a handsome doctor, impromptu selfies, and maybe some not great decision making, starring Bucky Barnes.
> 
> ~ ~ ~
> 
> Chapter title is a quote from Top Gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ ~ ~
> 
> I just want to remind readers PLEASE READ THE TAGS, and that this is a fic ABOUT CHEATING.
> 
> I'll include a full content warning in the End Notes, including a situation at Bucky's work, should you wish to check it out first.
> 
>  
> 
> ~ ~ ~

_'Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new.'_

~ Albert Einstein

 

 

Bucky's playlist

_The Bad Touch -_ Bloodhound Gang

 _Gettin' Jiggy Wit It –_ Will Smith

 _Take My Breath Away –_ Berlin

 _O.P.P._ – Naughty By Nature

 _Whatta Man –_ En Vogue

 _Creep -_ TLC

 

 

 

Bucky had some weird dreams, probably because he kept waking up and then dozing again. He kept dreaming about Steve, about what they'd done last night and what Steve would say when they faced each other in the morning.

That's why Bucky kept trying to sleep, every time he woke up and realized he should go talk to Steve, he just kinda went _nope_ , and shut his eyes again. Dream Steve was pretty dramatic. Dream Steve said things Bucky didn't want to hear.

The next time Bucky opened his eyes, Steve was there, sitting next to him on the bed. Bucky blinked a few times.

_Steve._

Not dream Steve, but very real Steve.

“Good morning.” Steve grinned at him, his eyes crinkling fondly. “I know you said midday, but it's not far off.”

Bucky shifted to sit up, very mindful of the fact that he was only wearing his t-shirt, nothing else. He was naked under the covers, and more than half hard. Thanks a lot, morning wood. “Hey,” he croaked, then cleared his throat a bit. “Um...”

Bucky wasn't nearly awake enough, nor had enough blood in his brain, to deal with this.

“I've already been out,” Steve said calmly. He twisted around and produced a thermos. “Coffee?”

“Oh, God,” Bucky muttered, automatically reaching for the thermos. Steve chuckled at his eagerness, and handed it over. Bucky recognised the eco-friendly thermos from the coffee shop three blocks away; they did great coffee. He gulped it down, grateful it was the perfect temperature, and closed his eyes in sheer bliss. “Thanks.”

Steve chuckled again. “No problem. I got bagels too. They're in the kitchen.”

Bucky grunted appreciatively. Normally he couldn't communicate verbally before at least one full drink of coffee, but he'd make an extra effort for Steve. He took another sip.

Steve shifted closer to him, said lowly, “Would you like a good morning blow job?”

Bucky nearly choked on his coffee, but managed to swallow it down with minimal coughing. “What?” He squinted at Steve in bewilderment.

“Sorry. Didn't mean to surprise you.” Steve smiled at him, eyes travelling downwards. “It's just... you look so good right now and I couldn't help notice...” His eyes rested on the covers, and when Bucky glanced down he realised that his morning wood was kinda obvious.

_Oh._

“Uh...”

“You can say no,” Steve assured him. “If, I mean... you're not into it, but... I really want to. Just so you know.”

Bucky's brain was too foggy with sleep to process this, but his dick had no such concern; like, all it needed was Steve close by and it was ready to go. Bucky found himself nodding, agreeing to the offer, still clutching the thermos until Steve plucked it from his hands.

“Let's just put this here.” Steve placed the thermos on Bucky's nightstand. Then he was back on the bed, moving over Bucky and pushing the covers away.

Before Bucky had time to panic about feeling exposed, Steve was bent over him and had his mouth on Bucky's bare dick and, oh, it felt so, so good. Steve had never been shy with his mouth; just like he'd always been a good kisser, he'd also been real good at giving head. Bucky grunted in pleasure, closing his eyes in bliss from the silky wet heat of Steve's mouth.

Maybe he was still dreaming. Bucky made himself open his eyes and looked down, watched Steve sucking his dick.

Okay, this was real. This was pretty awesome.

And he barely even thought about how Steve could most likely see his rounded middle, with his t-shirt riding up and exposing that spare tyre of flesh. Steve's hands wandered as his head bobbed up and down on Bucky's dick; hands sliding over his hips, fingers digging into flesh as they gripped onto him. Like, there was _a lot_ of flesh there, and it actually felt good being squeezed and touched.

Steve had always liked touching. How had Bucky forgotten that? The way his hands held onto Bucky's hips now, it felt almost possessive. He held on tight as he sucked harder on Bucky's dick.

He tried to concentrate on the sensations, on Steve's mouth, all hot and wet and his tongue moving like that, felt so amazing. When Steve tried to draw it out too long, Bucky reached down and touched Steve's head, threading his fingers in his hair, gently guiding him. Way back when, that'd always been Bucky's non verbal signal to _just go for it, Steve_ , and thankfully Steve still understood it now.

He moved his mouth to the top of Bucky's dick, and sucked on the head, flicking his tongue back and forth, while using his hand to pump the shaft. Bucky focused on how good it felt, and that was all his body needed to finally let go; his balls drew in tight and his dick shot its load as he came.

Steve kept sucking on him, and swallowed it all down. Bucky hadn't thought to warn him, but Steve didn't seem to have a problem with swallowing.

They'd done the same when they were younger, but that was different; they hadn't slept with anyone else at that point. Bucky was almost certain he was clean now, as he got checked regularly and always had safe sex... but this would have to be a conversation between them at some point soon.

Bucky was _not_ awake enough for conversations like that right now.

Steve popped his mouth off Bucky's dick, and grinned at him, looking all gorgeous and debauched with shiny, full lips, his blue eyes dancing as he looked at Bucky.

He was honestly so beautiful, Bucky felt a little overwhelmed, and had to look away. He tugged his t-shirt back down to cover his belly, trying to be subtle about it as he smiled in reply and hoped it seemed convincing.

“Room for one more?” Steve asked, loitering on the bed with intent.

Bucky snorted wryly. There wasn't room, but he wouldn't kick Steve out. Not a chance. He shifted over as much as he could, making space for Steve who shucked off his jeans and got into the bed.

Bucky pulled the covers over them, felt Steve's bare legs slide against his. Steve peeled his shirt off, tossing it aside, and then he was pressing his very naked, very incredible body against Bucky. He was warm and smooth, muscled and hard, and his erection nudged at Bucky's abdomen before slotting in alongside his still hard dick. Bucky sucked in a breath. He didn't pull back, he shifted a little, moved and parted his legs just enough for Steve to aim his cock and push in between the flesh of his thighs. They fit together easily, Steve pressing close, their arms winding around each other.

This had been one of their favorite things to do, and Bucky felt so much more relaxed under the security of the covers, even if it was getting warm fast.

Steve moved against him, rocking his hips. His cock was hot and a little wet with precome, sliding between Bucky's legs and along the seam of his balls. A whimper escaped his mouth, and he hung onto Steve's massive shoulders, hung on tight. Steve turned his head and kissed at the underside of Bucky's jaw, gasping open mouthed at his skin as his movement picked up speed, his hips thrusting faster.

Bucky loved this, loved being held close as Steve used him to get off. If he'd wanted to draw this out, Bucky wouldn't have minded, but he recognised the pace Steve set, like he wanted to come quick. Bucky hung onto him anyway, turned his face in so he could bite at Steve's neck, nip at his skin.

Steve groaned in response, the sound vibrating from his chest. He sped up, thrusting his cock-head in and out, breathing hard, until he shuddered and tensed, gasping loudly. His release splashed hot over Bucky's skin, and he continued pushing his cock between Bucky's legs, slower now.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve husked close to his ear. “Oh, fuck. Yeah.”

“Mmm,” Bucky hummed back, holding Steve through it. He felt such a sense of contentment. They lay there wrapped up in each other, both breathing heavily. Steve was hot as a furnace now, and Bucky felt so cosy and relaxed, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Steve must've dozed too, or he at least stayed still and quiet against Bucky as he slept. There wasn't much room to go anywhere on the slim bed.

Bucky dreamed again. He dreamed that he was talking too much, telling Steve all the things he didn't want anyone to know, least of all _him_. Bucky told Steve that he knew he was fat now; he knew he was unattractive. In the dream, Bucky took off his t-shirt to show Steve the painful truth; his scarred skin over his chest and shoulder, and all his chubby flesh on display.

He knew it was horrible.

Bucky woke up with a start. He was still pressed against Steve in bed, and damp with sweat. He had his t-shirt on, and he was relieved. Thank fuck, he thought, as his heart beat wildly.

When would his brain give him a break?

 _Jeez_.

Bucky made to move carefully, testing to see if Steve was asleep.

“Hey,” Steve murmured, evidently awake.

Bucky stilled. “Hey,” he replied. “You're... awake.” Tucked into Steve's huge chest, he couldn't see his face.

“Yeah, only a couple minutes, I think,” Steve said. “You were talking in your sleep. I thought you were talking to me, but nope. Still fast asleep.”

Bucky's blood ran cold, but he tried not to tense or panic. “Oh? What... um, what did I say?”

“Like, nothing I could make out. It was all, murr murr, murr murrrrr!” Steve chuckled in amusement, shaking them both.

Bucky breathed in relief, then pulled back to frown at Steve. “You used to talk in your sleep all the time, Rogers. And I remember that time you were supposedly asleep, when you rolled over and punched me square on the nose.”

Steve laughed again, and it was his devious _I know I'm a little shit_ dirty chuckle. “I didn't mean to,” he countered. “I was asleep! For all I know, you made that up just to make me feel guilty.”

“I did _not_ make it up,” Bucky argued, getting cross at something easily two decades in the past. “You rolled over and I thought you'd woken up. I even said, 'hey', and then your fist socked me one.”

“I'm sorry,” Steve giggled. “I've never done it again! If I even did it the first time. I musta been dreaming about some jerks at school. I wouldn't punch your nose, Buck. I happen to like your nose.”

Bucky tried not to smile. “Get outta my bed, you punk.” He shoved at Steve, which was ineffective, so Bucky went to tickle his sides instead. Steve shouted in alarm and shot up, legs getting tangled in the covers as he tried to escape. He took the covers with him, but before he lost his balance, Bucky grabbed the covers and yanked Steve back onto the bed.

Steve grinned at him. “Thanks.”

“Klutz,” Bucky said automatically. It was what his grandma had called them whenever he and Steve horsed around too much and inevitably broke things.

“Hey, take that back,” Steve replied, pulling on the covers.

Bucky held onto his corner and tugged back. “Which klutz gave himself concussion because he was so excited about me sleeping over, he jumped for joy then banged his head?”

Steve pulled a face, but he was trying not to smile. “You shut up.” He kept tugging on the covers, but Bucky wouldn't relinquish them.

“I'll never shut up about that.” Bucky grinned. The memory of Sarah Rogers opening the door and informing him that Steve had banged his head in sheer excitement at Bucky visiting, and had been made to sit still with an ice pack. Luckily Sarah was a nurse and knew what to do with concussion.

At the thought of Sarah, Bucky's mirth dried up quick. He couldn't believe she was gone. How on earth had Steve coped without her?

Bucky should've been there for him.

Before Steve caught on, Bucky changed the subject. “So, uh, you made me all sweaty, and I need a shower. You wanna take the first one?”

They stopped their tug of war, and Steve gave Bucky a devious grin. “Or we could shower together?”

“No,” Bucky snapped, terrified at the thought of Steve seeing him naked. Steve looked taken aback, and Bucky back-pedalled fast. “It's a tiny stall, there's no way we'd fit. You take the first one, okay? I gotta clean up in here.”

“Okay,” Steve said quietly, watching him. He looked concerned.

Bucky had to look away.

“You sure?” Steve asked, because he was _Steve_ , always had to check, always worried he was outstaying his welcome. Bucky hated that he'd made Steve worry.

This was exactly why he found relationships difficult.

He found himself slipping into Everything Is Fine mode for Steve's benefit. He plastered on a smile and said with false calm, “Yeah, it's fine. I need more coffee anyway.” He sat up in bed, pulled on the covers to make sure his body was concealed, and reached for his coffee. “You go on. Use any towels you want except the purple ones, those are Clint's.”

Which he was weirdly possessive over, for some reason Bucky had never worked out.

“You can use my shampoo and stuff if you want.”

Steve was quiet a beat, and Bucky wasn't sure he'd bought it, but eventually he agreed and went to get up.

Bucky busied himself taking a long sip of coffee, averting his eyes from Steve's naked form when he stood.

Little shit had a body like it was carved from marble, Bucky thought. How the _fuck_ had this even happened? His broad, muscled shoulders tapered down to his slim waist and hips, with a gorgeously pert ass and strong, sculpted legs. Bucky thought if Steve were placed on a plinth, he'd pass for a Greek statue.

Steve paused in the doorway to stretch languidly, catching Bucky's eye as he glanced over his shoulder with a smile. “Sure you don't want to join me?” he asked.

Little punk, Bucky thought.

“Would you go take a shower already,” he grumbled, settling lower in the bed with his coffee. He blocked his view of Steve with the thermos, but he still heard Steve's amused chuckle as he left the room.

Bucky called after him, “And leave some hot water for me!”

“Sir! Yes, Sir!” Steve called back.

Bucky sunk back into his pillows and looked up at the ceiling. The fuck was he even doing, fooling around with Steve? Guy looked like a catalogue model, and was clearly way out of Bucky's league.

This will not end well for you, a mean voice told him.

Bucky sipped on the coffee that Steve had gotten for him. Like, actually got dressed and gone outside, and walked three blocks to fetch for him. Then walked three blocks back here.

This wasn't behaviour that Bucky was used to from a partner.

Well, anyway, what did it matter? This wouldn't last. Steve had a fiancée to get home to.

_You're just temporary._

Bucky kinda wished his thoughts would shut up, but they had a point. It was sensible to be realistic, not get his hopes up.

Although it didn't help him much with his current situation, which was Steve in his shower while Bucky was still in bed, half dressed.

_Snap to it, Barnes._

Bucky made himself get out of bed. He had dried come all over him, which sucked, but until he had a shower he'd have to live with it. He pulled on his old bathrobe, tied it securely, then busied himself straightening up his room. He collected any stray clothing items, and he quickly stripped his bed so he wouldn't forget to do it later. He managed to squeeze the whole lot into his laundry basket. Then he took out clean bed clothes from his closet, placed them on the bed and sat back down to sip the last of his coffee.

He'd run out of steam already, but this was only his second day off work. He operated on being constantly exhausted thanks to shift work, and when he was at home the last thing he wanted to do was tidy and clean.

Bucky was still sat on his bed nursing the coffee when Steve padded back in, a towel around his waist. Bucky blinked at him, still quietly marvelling at how fucking ripped Steve was. His abs, and his _chest_.

 _Jeez_.

He could probably crack nuts with those pectorals.

Steve smiled at him. “All yours.”

“That was fast work,” Bucky said, as he got to his feet.

“You said to leave you water.”

“Yeah, but I didn't mean take under five minutes.” Bucky made to manoeuvre past Steve without staring at his naked skin, glistening with stray water droplets.

He kinda failed at the not staring.

Steve, the giant jerk, made it ten times worse by folding his arms over his chest, which pushed his pecs together like firm titties, and the muscles on his arms bulge out.

Bucky thought his eyes must be bulging out too.

“Say, can I borrow another shirt?” Steve asked casually. “You seem to have cleared that other one away. Unless,” he added slyly, flexing his chest so his pecs moved, “you _want_ me to walk around topless?”

When Bucky finally tore his eyes away from Steve's chest, and looked up at his smug face, Steve waggled his eyebrows at him. Bucky snorted a laugh, and turned to go before Steve saw he was blushing.

“You're the worst,” Bucky complained.

“That's not what you said last night,” Steve sing-songed.

“Yeah, yeah. Just take whatever you need from my closet.” Bucky retreated to the bathroom, and shut himself securely inside. He was grinning from ear to ear, so... it wasn't all bad.

Well, not until he undressed and dared to glance at himself in the mirror. That was a harsh reality check. He averted his eyes, mindful not to look down at his body either, and got into the shower.

Dealing with himself naked was... it wasn't great. Showering was a stark reminder that his body wasn't beautiful, not any more. He wasn't slim and ripped like Steve. He wasn't that peaches and cream complexion that Steve had, with his fair hair and smooth skin. Nope, Bucky was pasty skinned and really hairy, with folds of extra flesh all around his torso, and a network of scarred skin –pink, white, blotchy and bumpy– all over his left upper body and shoulder.

And it wasn't like... the _worst_ scarring he'd ever seen. Some of it was faint and white now, the scars being years old, and if someone saw him topless from a distance they might not spot anything until they got closer.

And, really, that was the problem. Up close, it didn't look pretty. Bucky supposed he was lucky that he could cover most of the ugly bits with a simple t-shirt, that the scarring didn't go as far as his neck, or lower down his arm. It was just...

How could he explain the need to remain clothed to Steve, or to anyone, without them getting curious? If Steve saw what was underneath, it'd be off putting for sure. No one would want to be up close with that, not on a regular basis.

Bucky tried to stop thinking about it. Just enjoy today, he told himself. Shut up and enjoy today.

He washed his hair, which was one of the only things he still liked about himself. When he'd rinsed clean and got out of the shower, he dried off and put his robe back on. He felt better already, once he'd covered up. Out of sight, he could pretend that the ugly bits weren't there.

Bucky pondered in front of the mirror, and ended up tying his hair back so he could shave. He was kinda hoping Steve would want to kiss him again. Better make things more inviting, in that case, and hope Steve didn't think his face looked chubby without the beard stubble.

He shaved carefully, and then borrowed a bit of Clint's expensive aftershave, which stung his skin, but smelled real nice.

Now he had to go get dressed, because the robe would fall open otherwise and reveal his chest.

What the fuck should he wear?

Bucky stalled, worrying over his options. He certainly wasn't about to go squeeze on those tight jeans again. No way. Steve would just have to see him in his more slobby clothes, that was all.

_Okay, here goes._

He exited the bathroom. As he passed through the apartment, he spotted Steve in the kitchen area. “I'll be out in a minute,” he told Steve, who appeared to be making a fresh pot of coffee.

Bucky approved.

“I'll get the bagels ready!” Steve replied

When Bucky got into his room, he did a double take at his bed. It'd been made with the clean bed clothes.

Steve had made his bed.

Bucky was impressed. Someone was certainly going for extra boy scout points today. Bucky smiled, and set about looking for suitable clothes. He pulled on clean socks and underwear, then one of his baggy black t-shirts. Now the worst areas were covered, he just needed pants.

He rifled through his assorted sleeping clothes. If he put sweats on he'd feel too hot, but cotton pyjamas...

Perfect.

He found a dark blue flannel pair of pants which he knew fit well, and he pulled those on. He also picked out a pair of clean socks, and made his way to the kitchen. “Hey,” he said, placing the socks on the counter. “These are clean if you want them.”

Steve, who was barefoot, smiled at him. “Thanks. I feel like I'm wearing all your clothes.” He gestured down at the black fitted t-shirt he'd borrowed.

Bucky felt his face grow hot –because that tee fit Steve _very_ well– and turned away to look for plates and cutlery. “It's fine. Did you find the deodorant in the bathroom?”

“Yeah, I used some.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Bucky teased, then yelped in surprise when a dish towel whipped across his butt. “Ow!”

Steve bent over to laugh, clutching the offending dish towel. “Oh, man! What a squeal.”

Bucky glared at him, and pulled plates down from the cupboard. “Lucky I didn't drop these on my head, you asshole.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve retorted, pouring coffee into mugs. “Shaddup and have some more coffee already.” He pushed a mug across the counter to Bucky. “How many of these does it take for you to stop acting like a grouch?” He flicked the dish towel up onto his shoulder as he grinned.

Bucky stared, a little dumbfounded, before he gathered himself enough to reply, “How many can you shove up your ass, Steven?”

Steve huffed a laugh. “Depends what size?”

“The biggest, most painful ones,” Bucky said without much thought, and picked up his cup for a sip.

“I see.” Steve waggled his eyebrows. “This is getting kinky.”

Bucky snorted into his coffee. He tried not to laugh but he couldn't help it. “Shaddup and gimme these bagels,” he whined.

“Your wish is my command.” Steve picked up his own coffee, and a paper bag of what had to be the bagels. “Couch?”

“Couch.”

They set up camp with the TV on, and bickered over what to watch as they shared the bag of mini bagels between them. In a lot of ways, it was like being a teenager again, having had Steve sleep over. That same warm contentment at having Steve all to himself, that same funny dip in his stomach if they locked eyes for a beat too long, especially when Steve smiled warmly at him.

“There's some Pad Thai left,” Steve commented. “We could eat that for lunch.”

“Isn't this lunch?” Bucky popped another warm, mini bagel into his mouth. They were so good. “Mmm,” he groaned happily.

Steve was quiet, then he shifted to face Bucky. “I need to ask you something.”

His tone had turned serious.

Bucky's stomach flipped nervously, and he swallowed his mouthful carefully. “What?”

“In your bedroom,” Steve began, “I couldn't help notice...”

He paused, long enough for Bucky to look at him, confused and worried.

“Notice what?”

Steve's face twisted into a grin. “No Val Kilmer poster?”

Bucky blinked at him, stunned, then sighed heavily in exasperation. “Man,” he muttered.

“So?” Steve prompted, grinning wide. “What happened to it? I thought it'd be across from your bed, or on your ceiling, but nope.”

“Shut up, you jerk.”

“Did you wear it out?” Steve teased. “Did it erode from being wiped clean too many–”

Bucky whumped a cushion into Steve's chest, only succeeding in making him laugh. “You're such a troll,” Bucky complained. “You were a troll before trolls were invented.”

Steve had always made fun of him for the posters in his bedroom, especially that Val Kilmer one.

“You're the absolute worst.”

Steve only laughed harder. “Have you lost that loving feeling, Buck?”

Bucky hit him with another cushion, while Steve used the first one to defend himself.

“You've lost that loving _feeee–ling!_ ” Steve sang in between swats from the cushion.

“Iceman didn't sing that, you moron,” Bucky told him, giving up on trying to quiet Steve. “That was Goose and Maverick.”

“Yeah, I know.” Steve smiled at him. “Speaking of _Top Gun_ , you wanna watch it?”

“Now?”

“Sure, why not?” Steve shrugged.

Bucky side eyed him. “What's the catch?”

Steve had gotten so bored of the number of times Bucky re-watched _Top Gun_ , he'd insisted Bucky never watch it in his presence again. He'd been pretty adamant about it.

Steve looked far too nonchalant about this. “I don't mind. I know you like it. And you did let me choose the movies last night.”

“True,” Bucky agreed, gingerly reaching for the laptop. “Okay. But no whining during the movie, I swear, Steve...”

“I won't complain,” Steve promised. “I haven't seen it in forever anyway.”

“Yeah, because you banned me from watching it,” Bucky grumbled, while Steve laughed. He searched for _Top Gun_ in Clint's downloaded movies.

“I don't think asking you not to watch it on repeat every single day during the holidays was totally out of line,” Steve defended.

“Okay, okay, shaddup. I'm putting it on.”

The movie started and they settled in to watch. As promised, Steve did remain quiet.

Well, he didn't _complain_ anyway.

He did chuckle at a few things, and made “ _Ooh!_ ” noises when Val Kilmer's name appeared in the opening credits. Bucky rolled his eyes and tried to ignore Steve's teasing. He'd had a lot of practice at that, just had to tune him out and concentrate on the screen.

By the time it got to the bar scene with the actors in that white dress uniform that Bucky really liked, he glanced at Steve, and saw Steve was already watching him.

Steve grinned. “We shoulda sung this one last night,” he said, just as the pilots on-screen were gearing up to sing their number.

“No time like the present,” Bucky countered. He clutched a cushion to his chest, took a deep breath and belted out, “Baby! _Bay-bee_ , I know it!”

“You've lost that loving feeling!” Steve joined in, and they sang the rest together.

Well, more bellowed than sang, but that was okay.

The last time they'd sung during _Top Gun_ must've been middle school. It was still shmaltzy as fuck, but Bucky loved it. He felt so elated, like he may float to the ceiling. When he caught Steve's eye, his stomach did that dip thing again, and Bucky quickly turned his attention back to the movie in a bid to keep a handle on things.

At least Steve stopped ribbing him after that.

He even went suspiciously quiet, so much so that Bucky glanced at him a couple times, almost certain that Steve was watching him, but it was impossible to tell. If he looked too much that Steve noticed, all he did was smile at Bucky; not a smirk or a grin, just a smile, like he was pleased simply to be there watching movies together.

Bucky didn't say anything, it was hard enough not to blush right now. So he concentrated on the movie and tried to ignore all the swooping feelings he kept having.

Steve was well behaved right up until the final scene, when Kilmer gave Cruise his approval. Bucky was engrossed in the moment –it was a good movie– until Steve made a show of fanning himself and sighing, “Oh, Iceman!”

Bucky thumped him with a cushion. “Jerk. You ruined the ending.”

“You'll live.” Steve laughed, yanking Bucky's cushion out of his hands. “Unless you pass out from Val Kilmer overload.”

“Shut. Up.”

“Didn't you keep any posters of him? Not even the one where he's Batman?”

Bucky laughed. “You shaddup, or I'll put that movie on next.”

“Okay, okay.” Steve set the cushion aside, and reached for Bucky. “C'mere, Maverick.”

“Lay off.” Bucky swatted Steve's hand away, laughed when Steve made another grab for him.

“You can be my wingman,” Steve quoted, leaning in.

“Bullshit–” Bucky tried to say, and stopped short when Steve finally got a hold of him, pulling him close.

 _Fuck_ , Steve was so strong now.

Steve gazed into his eyes, reached up to carefully tuck a stray lock of hair behind Bucky's ear, and Bucky felt more than a little breathless. “I really wanna kiss you,” Steve murmured.

Bucky stared at Steve's mouth, his plump pink lips. He swallowed. “Uh, I... yeah.” He reached for Steve, fingers trailing lightly over his shoulder, up to the bare skin of his neck. Steve leaned in, angled his face, as Bucky did the same. Their lips touched and Bucky closed his eyes. This kiss was slow, unhurried. Steve shifted closer, slid an arm behind Bucky's back to hold him. The light stubble that'd grown in tickled Bucky's face as they kissed, lightly scratching his smooth skin.

Bucky made a noise, low in his throat. He couldn't help it. Steve seemed to take that as invitation, as he deepened the kiss. The slower pace gave Bucky's mind too much room to anticipate what would come next, and his dick got hard pretty quick. He shifted on the couch, feeling hot and horny, and kissed Steve harder, his breath coming in fast. Steve kissed him back, adjusting their positions so he half covered Bucky, pressing him into the couch as they made out.

Bucky's usually anxious mind was quiet, too focused on kissing Steve, and the boner he had in his pants. The sound of a key in the door didn't register until it banged open, and heavy footsteps announced an unexpected arrival.

“Hey.” Clint's voice.

Bucky stilled in surprise, then shoved Steve off him and ducked low on the couch. He shuffled sideways on the cushions to put some distance between him and Steve before he peeped over the back of the couch.

Clint was busy dropping bags to the floor and shedding his coat. He didn't seem to have looked their way yet.

Bucky wilted with relief.

Steve stared at him, still frozen in place from where Bucky had forcibly shoved him away.

“Sorry,” Bucky mouthed to him with a grimace. He hadn't meant to over react like that.

“Hey, couch dude,” Clint greeted Steve, approaching them. “You...” He trailed off, eyes lingering as he looked between the two of them.

Bucky belatedly pulled a cushion over his boner.

 _Shit_.

“Uh...” Clint paused, then he huffed a laugh. “Am I interrupting?”

“No,” Bucky lied, “we're just watching movies. This is Steve, by the way. Steve, Clint. You sorta met before.”

“Yeah, you almost sat on my face,” Steve dead-panned.

Clint laughed at that. “Hazard of leaving your face where my ass usually sits.” He glanced at the TV. “Oh, hey. _Top Gun_. That was pretty gay, right?”

Bucky groaned, sinking lower in the couch.

“Or was that just me?” Clint went on.

Great. Now Clint was trolling _Top Gun_ too. Bucky would never hear the end of this.

“There's take-out left,” Bucky said, hoping to distract Clint.

“Oh, yeah?” Clint looked up, scanning the apartment, and ambled off toward the kitchen area.

Bucky sighed quietly, and hugged his cushion close.

 _Man_.

He felt really awkward sporting a boner with Clint around. Like being caught by a parent, which hadn't ever happened for real, but there'd been a few close calls. Bucky felt all the same anxiety rushing back, the fear of being outed, the worry of how tolerant others would be if they caught him.

Steve was quiet, seemingly just as tense as Bucky was.

“You working later?” Clint asked, strolling back to the couch, carton of left-over noodles in one hand, fork in the other.

“Not today,” Bucky told him. “Early tomorrow. You?”

“Night shifts all weekend,” Clint said. “New year's eve tomorrow. Fun. Might try get a nap in before tonight's shift.”

“Right,” Bucky said, wondering if Clint planned to get groceries. “There isn't much food in...”

“I just bought some essentials.”

“Oh, okay.”

Clint had shovelled a forkful of noodles into his mouth and was chomping on them loudly.

No one said anything else. Steve avoided looking at anyone, and Bucky didn't know what to do. Maybe Clint wanted the couch? Should they get up?

But then Clint said, “I'm gonna eat this in my room. Leave you crazy kids to it.” He chuckled as he walked away.

Bucky exhaled with a small huff. That hadn't been mortifying at all.

Steve moved closer, glancing over his shoulder before asking quietly, “Is everything okay?”

“Huh?” Bucky stalled. “Yeah. Why?”

Steve blinked at him, seemingly surprised. “Well, like...” He lowered his voice to a whisper, “You threw me off pretty quick when he came in.”

Bucky hid his face in the cushion. “I'm sorry,” he said, voice muffled by the fabric.

Steve was quiet a beat, then asked, “Are you... not out to him?”

“Oh, he knows.” Bucky looked up again, and immediately regretted his words when he saw the hurt look on Steve's face.

“So, then... what's the problem?”

“There's no problem,” Bucky insisted. “I panicked. And there's a difference between straight guys _saying_ they don't have a problem with other guys doing shit, and them actually _seeing_ it happen. On _their_ couch.”

“Oh.” Steve frowned, looking hurt again. “You think he wouldn't approve?”

Bucky pushed his hands up into his hair. “I don't _know_ , Steve,” he said under his breath. “Can we please not do this right now?”

“Okay, okay.” Steve shifted away on the couch with a small huff, and Bucky remembered all the times Steve would pout, fold his thin arms and act all sore.

Bucky bit his lip, on the verge of apologising, when Steve suddenly made to get up.

“I should probably get going,” he said.

“Oh... okay?”

“Unless...” Steve turned to him, poised on the edge of the couch. “Do you wanna go out some place?”

“Um...” Bucky felt bad, but he really didn't want to go outside. He just wanted a pyjama day. “I'm pretty beat, and I have an early start tomorrow.”

He knew that sounded weak, but it was the truth. Normally, he'd be going back to bed within the next four to five hours in order to get enough sleep before his early start.

Steve nodded, trying to hide his disappointment and failing. “Yeah, of course. I'll just... I'll get going.” He stood, and started collecting his jacket and scarf from where he'd left them last night.

Bucky got up too, left the cushion behind on the couch and just sort of willed his boner to go down already. Apparently being walked in on hadn't affected it much. Steve was in jeans, so it was less noticeable on him. Bucky followed him to the door, feeling a lot of conflicting things at once.

Steve called out a goodbye to Clint, who called back, “Later, couch dude!” from inside his room.

Bucky was glad for a small amount of privacy to say goodbye. Steve turned to him, and Bucky tried not to fidget. “I'll, um... see you soon?” Steve asked, sounding unsure.

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

“What're you doing tomorrow night?”

“Going to bed early again.” Bucky smiled wryly.

“Right.”

They stood there, not quite looking at each other. Bucky was looking everywhere except Steve's face, until he couldn't bear it any more and looked up. Steve had his concentrating face on; a small frown, lips pursed. Bucky started to smile, just as Steve looked up and met his eyes.

Bucky didn't look away, and their eyes locked for the longest time.

He couldn't believe Steve was leaving. This all felt so surreal. Like epic deja vu, back to that last time he'd gone to visit Steve at his college dorm, and Steve had told Bucky about some girl he'd met, and the crushing disappointment from that revelation.

Steve meeting a girl had been inevitable; Bucky had been waiting for it to happen. It was the expected thing, especially back then when being out just wasn't an option, and he'd been totally _fine_ with stepping aside if Steve wanted to move on, to be in an official relationship with a girl.

But saying goodbye hadn't been easy, not at all.

And here they were again.

Bucky swallowed past the lump forming in his throat. “I guess I'll see you in the new year.”

“Shit, yeah.” Steve broke into a smile, and he looked so beautiful. “See you in the new year.” He reached out, gently pulled Bucky to him. Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve for the hug, hung on tight for the briefest moment, then let him go again.

Steve turned his face in and kissed Bucky on the mouth, quick but by no means hesitant. Bucky responded by kissing back, holding onto Steve's jacket to keep him in place.

All too soon it was over, and Steve pulled back. He smiled shyly, and said goodbye.

Bucky watched the door close behind him, listened to his footsteps fade away down the hall. Then he took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair, retying it because a few too many strands had come loose.

Well.

Now he was alone again.

He meandered over to his room, to his phone. It was flashing with a lot of notifications, but it'd been on silent so he hadn't known. The messages that caught his eye first were from Facebook. Sam had sent three messages asking if Steve was with him.

Riley had sent one message that read, _If you slept with Steve, Sam owes me twenty bucks!!! ;P_

Bucky stared at the screen, frozen in panic.

_Shit._

_Just... Shit. Fuck. How?_

Bucky started to read Sam's messages next. How would he deal with this?

He hadn't even begun typing a reply, when the screen changed to show Sam was calling him through the Facebook app.

 _Fucking Facebook_ , Bucky thought desperately, staring wide eyed at the screen. He must've shown as online, and clearly Sam wanted to talk to him.

Before he could react, the call ended.

Bucky thought maybe he'd gotten away with it, but then the typing ellipses appeared to show Sam was writing him a message. Bucky's heart thudded, and anxiety froze his limbs.

A new message appeared from Sam:

_Pick up!_

Then the screen showed Sam's incoming call again.

As much as Bucky wanted to ignore it, there was a possibility that it was an emergency. He accepted the call, raised his phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Bucky?” Sam's voice.

“Yeah.”

“You good?” Sam asked. He spoke calm and clear, but Bucky heard the tension in his voice.

“Uh huh,” Bucky replied, his mind already racing through multiple alibis and stalling tactics like a mental Rolodex, just in case Sam was onto him and Steve. It was fine, he used to reel off lies all the time growing up as a kid in the closet.

“Steve okay?” Sam asked.

“Yeah... I guess. Why?” He stalled, trying to channel innocence into his voice. “What's up?”

“Well, no one can get through to Steve's phone,” Sam said. “I tried myself, but the calls won't connect, and it's not like Steve to go silent.”

“Oh...” Bucky felt blind sided by this new information. “Maybe his phone's off?”

“Then it'd go to voicemail,” Sam said, “but this is more like air plane mode, like he's avoiding calls on purpose.”

A voice spoke in Sam's background, and Sam added, “Uh huh, and Riley says he's probably still with you. Which is why I'm calling you.”

Bucky didn't know what to say. He'd had no idea there was anything up with Steve's phone, yet it sounded very much like he was being blamed for it.

“If he's there, that's fine,” Sam went on, “but I'm getting calls from Sharon asking where he is, and she's starting to get worried.”

“Oh,” Bucky said again, stalling for time. He still had no idea what to say; his mental Rolodex had vanished, leaving him with nothing.

Maybe for the best, he thought. The less said, the better, in these situations. He didn't want to say something that incriminated Steve, or him for that matter.

“Is he there?” Sam asked. “Put him on.”

“Uh... no. He left already.”

“When?” Sam sounded worried.

“A little while ago. But he's probably just on the subway or something,” Bucky hedged.

“I've been trying to call him on and off since midday,” Sam informed him, “and it's getting close to four now.”

“Uh...” _Shit_. Now Sam sounded pissed. “I'm sure he's fine,” Bucky said, “Why don't you try him again now?”

Sam was quiet a beat, then asked slowly, “So, you're telling me to try Steve now, and he's gonna pick up?”

“Um...” Bucky made a face, on the verge of panic. “I guess? I dunno, I hope so.”

“Hm.”

Bucky swore he could feel Sam's gaze on him right now, and it made him squirm.

“Okay, Barnes. I'll go call him again.”

“Okay, yeah,” Bucky replied, trying really hard to sound normal. His heart was racing.

When had lying gotten so hard?

“I'll talk to you later,” Sam told him, which sounded more like a threat.

“Okay!” Bucky forced cheer into his voice. “Bye!”

He ended the call and exited off the Facebook app.

_Fuck you, Facebook._

He rubbed his hands over his face, then dragged them through his hair. “ _Oy,_ ” he sighed out.

Talk about escalating quickly.

Should he message Steve? Give him the heads up about Sam calling?

Well, it wasn't like Steve had given _him_ a heads up about any impending interrogations. Like, at least warn a guy, Rogers.

Bucky sat there in stunned silence, just trying to process everything and its implications.

When Clint knocked on his open door, Bucky started in surprise.

“Oh, hey. Sorry.” Clint grinned in amusement. “I'm hitting the hay for a bit. I've ordered a pizza for seven thirty, if you want in.”

Bucky could've kissed Clint. “Oh, man. Yeah, that'd be amazing. Hey, I'm gonna go do laundry now, if you got anything you want done.”

“Yeah, cool.” Clint disappeared again, no doubt to go find some laundry for Bucky to do.

In a lot of ways, it felt like a good domestic relationship, just minus the sex part.

Bucky glanced at his laundry basket, stuffed to the brim, and realised some of Steve's things were in there too.

 _Shit_ , had Steve gone out wearing Bucky's t-shirt? He had, hadn't he.

Bucky sighed, and opened a new text on his phone. He hesitated over what to write, concerned that if Steve's absence today was under the spotlight already, would his fiancée check his cell phone in a fit of paranoia?

Bucky wouldn't blame her, to be honest.

But had Steve kept their previous conversations in his phone, or deleted those messages? They'd be, like, pretty incriminating. And all the selfies and dumb photos they'd exchanged?

Ugh, this was getting complicated fast. They hadn't had the added issue of cell phones growing up when they'd kept things on the down low.

Bucky typed a message anyway:

_Sam called, wants to talk to u. And ur wearing my shirt, u jerk._

That seemed innocuous enough. Bucky sent it to Steve. Nothing alerted him to say the message hadn't gone through, so Bucky assumed it would reach him fine. He put his phone down, and stared into space for a long moment.

Then he picked up his phone again on a whim, and typed another message to Steve:

_I'm keeping your underwear. Xx_

He sent it. He even smiled to himself about it, because there was no way that was a platonic and innocuous message.

Steve texted back within twenty minutes, while Bucky was getting his shit together to go downstairs to the laundry room.

 

16:02 Steve:

Yes I realised walking down the street that I wasn't wearing underwear. 10/10 would do it again. So you can keep mine :P

 

16:04 Bucky:

LOL ur a dork. Enjoy going commando.

 

16:05 Steve:

Oh I will. The ventilation is something else.

 

16:06 Bucky:

Hah

 

16:06 Bucky:

So is everything OK? Sam seemed worried.

 

16:07 Steve:

Yeah sorry about that :( he is a worrier. U + him would get along so good.

 

16:10 Bucky:

Fuq u Rogers. U need to warn me. I didn't know what to tell him.

 

16:10 Steve:

U R right :( Sorry Bucky. I'll talk to him.

 

16:10 Steve:

And I wish u would! ;)

 

16:11 Bucky:

wish I would what?

 

16:11 Steve:

Fuck me. U jerk. Xxx

 

16:13 Bucky:

WOW. And who said romance was dead???

 

16:14 Steve:

Hey I brought you breakfast AND a BJ in bed! I let u watch Top gun! What more could a guy ask for? :D

 

16:17 Bucky:

Ask me that again when ur single, and i'll tell you. x

 

16:18 Steve:

:(

 

16:18 Steve:

yeah I know. This sucks.

 

16:19 Steve:

I miss you xxx

 

16:20 Bucky:

I miss u too <3

 

16:21 Steve:

I'm gonna sort this all out Buck. I promise. I want to be with you. Xxx

 

16:22 Steve:

This is gonna be our year :)

 

16:24 Bucky:

:) xxx

 

 

~ ~ ~

 

Bucky was sat in the laundry room, still in pyjamas but with his coat and boots on, headphones in and playing around on his phone to avoid talking to anyone else while he waited. He hadn't heard any more from Steve, and that was okay, Bucky had a lot to process.

Like, _a lot._

Thankfully he hadn't heard from Sam either, so Bucky was flicking between apps, not really looking at anything in particular, when a new message from Riley popped up on Facebook messenger:

_So! Tell me everything._

Bucky stared at the message, heart rate spiking as his body went into Silent Panic Mode. What did Riley know? Had Steve told Sam? Had Sam told Riley?

 _Calm down_. Surely they'd be on his side? If Steve had told them what he planned to do, like, break off his engagement and come out, and stuff?

Wouldn't they?

Bucky wasn't sure, and thought it best that he keep to the tried and tested say as little as possible shtick.

 

James Barnes:

I'm in the laundry room. Two of my neighbors are here too including the guy who talks to himself. That's about everything. How's your hangover?

 

Riley Johnson:

OMG FASCINATING MY DAY IS MADE!!!!!! No U tease. Tell me all about you and Steve! :D :D :D

 

James Barnes:

IDK what you mean

 

Riley Johnson:

OMG

 

Riley Johnson:

You're a coy one.

 

James Barnes:

What?

 

Riley Johnson:

Where are you? I'm buying you dinner, you can tell me all the deets.

 

James Barnes:

You want to buy me dinner?

 

Riley Johnson:

Sure, gorgeous! :D What will it be? Somewhere quiet, my head hurts like a MF.

 

James Barnes:

LOL. I can't, I'm doing laundry then early to bed. On early tomorrow.

 

Riley Johnson:

Are you telling lies...

 

James Barnes:

Literally going to bed in 2 hours. Sorry.

 

Riley Johnson:

:( boo, man. Tell me over here then. I'll be your confidante.

 

James Barnes:

LOL why?

 

Riley Johnson:

OK, so. My money was on Steve being a closet case from the day I met him, bless his beefcake heart. I did not buy the straight boy act for one minute. Not one minute! And when you show up at his bachelor's, he was all heart eyes for you, and I was like YEAAAHHH I called it! But LAST NIGHT!!! OMG. You two together makes SO MUCH SENSE!!! You're like a total couple, and then you oh so casually go home together??

 

Riley Johnson:

You either boned before, or you are now. Or both. My money's on both, but Sam refused to believe me. He thinks Steve has an innocent crush on you, and you're leading the poor little straight boy astray with your wild gay tendencies.

 

James Barnes:

Wait what? I'm not leading anyone :(

 

Riley Johnson:

That's what I said!! You're just as into him as he is into you. So who got into who exactly????? I had you down as a bottom when you were with your sexy hunk for the party, but with Steve I'm not so sure!! You a switch?

 

James Barnes:

WOW.

 

James Barnes:

Wouldn't you like to know!

 

Riley Johnson:

Oh playing coy again? That's fine, I'll get it out of Steve. If Sam doesn't first.

 

James Barnes:

Fine. Talk to Steve.

 

Riley Johnson:

Oh I will ;P

 

Riley Johnson:

So as Sam and Steve are already BFF's, can I get dibs on you? :D I'm a great friend. Did I mention Sam and I have an open relationship?

 

James Barnes:

Only like 20 times already.

 

Riley Johnson:

LOL

 

Riley Johnson:

Look, Bucky, babe, you know I'm real happy with Sam, right? I couldn't be happier. I did find it a bit WEIRD that Sam had this totally hot STRAIGHT beefcake as a friend and wasn't boning him or anything (what a waste, right???) but if you and Steve are our new BFF's and we can all hang out again, I'll be very happy.

 

James Barnes:

LOL omg. BFF's huh?

 

Riley Johnson:

Seriously. Last night was a blast. You're the cutest couple.

 

James Barnes:

We're not a couple :(

 

Riley Johnson:

I sense a but in there...

 

James Barnes:

Dude you should probably talk to Steve.

 

Riley Johnson:

OMFG I knew it!!!!!!! I fucking knew it. Aw c'mon tell me. I can keep secrets.

 

Riley Johnson:

Bucky Buck c'mon.

 

Riley Johnson:

I'll share a secret if you like. Makes things fair.

 

James Barnes:

LOL OK

 

Riley Johnson:

I'm proposing to Sam in the spring.

 

James Barnes:

No way!!

 

James Barnes:

Awesome :)

 

Riley Johnson:

Yeah :D wanted to on NYE but obvs I'm away flying so gotta be another time. You'll come to our wedding right?

 

James Barnes:

You're inviting me to your wedding?

 

Riley Johnson:

OFC! This is all a lavish excuse to get as many hot men together as NYC will allow and get absolutely wasted.

 

James Barnes:

LOL like a toga party wedding?

 

Riley Johnson:

You're reading my mind! :D But anyway, that's my big secret. Don't tell Steve because that boy sucks at lying.

 

James Barnes:

I won't tell anyone.

 

Riley Johnson:

Good boy! Now c'mon. Spill.

 

James Barnes:

OMG you're the worst. I can't say anything.

 

Riley Johnson:

I am literally sighing in frustration rn

 

James Barnes:

Sigh all you like bro :P

 

Riley Johnson:

I like it when you're sassy

 

Riley Johnson:

Seriously man. All joking aside, if you need a bud, I am your man.

 

Riley Johnson:

Would also happily perform any sexual favors you want, any time. No Homo :D

 

James Barnes:

LOL thanks. ^.^ I gotta go now.

 

Riley Johnson:

OK babe. I mean it tho, you need anything you come to me OK. I'm rooting for U :D

 

James Barnes:

Thanks :) see you later.

 

Riley Johnson:

Bye! :D

 

~ ~ ~

 

“I'm just saying,” Peter went on, “that new hand-wash has the exact consistency and color of spunk. It's true, check it out!”

Scott, sitting beside him in their cramped little break room, raised his eyebrows a little. “I wasn't disagreeing with you.”

“Pete, man,” Luis said, “the hand-wash has much more of this vibrant cerise color, you know what I'm sayin'? You want to maybe go see a specialist about that shit, because that is not a normal color to be producing.”

“No, not the pink soap!” Peter rolled his eyes extravagantly. “Haven't you seen the new one? The bathrooms all got changed to this sorta white, sorta clear hand-wash overnight, and when you squidge it out, it's just like splooge. It even makes a squirty sound!”

Scott, clearly done with the conversation, looked over at Bucky pleadingly.

Bucky made a _what can you do?_ look back. He'd already had Peter yammering at him during the morning rounds on their double up's, and he'd learned to tune it out.

He cleared his throat to get Peter's attention. “Peter, I'll go check on Logan. You good starting lunch prep?”

Peter looked relieved. “I'm glad you volunteered, bro. He was _not_ a happy camper this morning.”

Bucky nodded in agreement. Logan seemed very unsettled today, and hadn't wanted to get out of bed. It was better to tackle him on his own, without Peter there chattering away to annoy him.

After their meagre break, they all went their separate ways; Luis to do the laundry, Scott and Peter to start lunch hall prep, and Bucky back to Logan's room.

Bucky hoped Logan had enjoyed his sleep in. He'd give anything to go back to bed right now. His eyes burned from lack of sleep, and he had a headache. Despite the early night, Bucky had spent most of it staring at his ceiling, too anxious to sleep.

He should've let Riley take him to dinner after all. He could've asked about Steve, about what he'd said to Sam. Because Bucky didn't know anything, and hadn't heard from Steve or anyone else since. Had Steve told Sam about them?

It'd be kinda good if he had, Bucky thought. It'd help make it seem more real. Like Steve really planned on leaving his fiancée for him.

He sighed to himself as he got to Logan's door. He kept dwelling and it was a waste of time because there was nothing he could do about it. This decision was Steve's. Bucky felt bad for influencing him in any way. What if Steve did all that, left the woman, and then regretted it? What if he ended up blaming Bucky for ruining his relationship? What if–

 _Stop_.

Bucky breathed in and pushed his thoughts aside, shifting back to professional mode. He knocked on the door, then opened it. “Hey, Logan. It's James.”

No answer, but he was still in bed, judging from the person-shaped lump under the covers. Bucky went over to the blinds, opening them part way to let the daylight in.

It'd be great if he could crack a window too, it really smelled stale in here, but the winter air was far too cold for old folks.

“You gonna get out of bed now?” Bucky asked, noting that the breakfast cart was untouched. “You missed your scrambled eggs. If you wanna sit up a bit I'll go heat them up for you.”

“Go away,” Logan gruffed out.

Bucky let his breath out slowly, disappointed that Logan wouldn't play ball. He could be in pain or just feeling fed up, but it was impossible to know for sure. Bucky decided he'd have to speak to management about it. Maybe the guy had winter blues, maybe it was something more serious.

“Sure you don't want your breakfast? You need to eat, Logan.” Bucky moved closer to the bed, picking up the blister pack of meds. Today's pills were still sealed, and it was better having them after food. “Look, pal, I know it sucks. I'll make you a deal. You eat a bit of food and take your pills, then I'll leave you alone. Yeah?”

No answer.

It was hard to even get a glimpse of Logan, so buried under the covers. Only the top fluffy part of his hair poked out.

Bucky moved a little closer. “Logan, c'mon. If you don't cooperate with me, I have to tell the docs, and then they'll–”

Logan burst out from the covers, grabbed Bucky's arm and yanked him in.

In the moment it took, Bucky chided himself for getting too close. He should've known better.

Logan punched him in the face, and shoved him away. Bucky stumbled backwards, crashing into the breakfast cart and taking it with him to the floor.

The commotion was loud, and as Bucky sat sprawled on the floor amid the contents of the cart, he was peeved when no one came in to check on them. Probably no other staff nearby.

Logan had cocooned himself back under the blankets, silent and still. Bucky sat still too, more shocked than anything. Logan had never been this bad before, not with him anyway.

“Oh-kayyy,” he muttered under his breath, shifting to get up. He had eggs and orange juice all over him now. _Great_. He got to his feet, keeping one eye on the bed, and did a quick clear up.

At least all the plates and cups were plastic, nothing was smashed or broken. Bucky used wet wipes on the floor quickly; he'd have to call for the cleaner later.

Leaving the room, he went to the nearest wall-mounted telephone, and pressed the button for Doctor Hank Pym. As it rang, Bucky moved his jaw from side to side, trying to gage what hurt and where. Logan's fist had smacked him more in the cheek, and it hurt but he doubted anything was broken.

The secretary answered, and Bucky said, “Yeah, hey. I think we got a situation with resident Logan Howlett. He's doing the angry-in-bed thing.”

“How angry?” she asked.

“As in, won't eat or take his meds, and punching aggressively kind of angry.”

“Ah. I'll let Dr Pym know right away. Will you stay with the resident?”

“Yeah, I'd better,” Bucky said. “Make sure he doesn't do anything else.”

“Okay, call back if you need to.”

“Sure. Bye.”

Bucky hung up the phone, and huffed to himself. He felt bad, like he was a tattle tale, but if Logan needed help then he needed doctors who could deal with his medication and health. Logan sure did have a lot of meds to take, and they could have side effects. Bucky didn't blame Logan, the guy was a vet and clearly had some issues. Bucky just felt sad about it, and kind of helpless.

He went back to Logan's room, with every intention of just quietly lurking until Dr Pym arrived, but when he re-entered the room, Bucky saw that the bed was empty, the covers thrown back.

_Shit._

_Where'd he go?_

Bucky glanced at the bathroom first, as that seemed the most logical place for him to be, but that appeared empty too. Even Logan's walking frame was still by the bed. Bucky turned to look the other way, when something hard and heavy cracked across the back of his head, forcing him down. The floor rushed up to greet him, and Bucky was amazed that his hands shot out in time to break his fall.

Either something had fallen on him, or he was being attacked.

He tried to shuffle forward on his hands and knees, to get away from whatever the danger was, but another hit landed on his shoulder.

Okay, that was definitely a person hitting him with something.

_Sonnuva–_

Bucky swung round to face Logan, who was wielding a cane. Bucky acted on instinct and prayed he wouldn't break bones in the process; he kicked out Logan's legs first, then dived in to break the guy's fall with his arm.

He only just managed it, and Logan crashed down into him, shouting and thrashing. Bucky didn't try to wrestle the cane away yet, he knew Logan had a strong grip, but his strength and range of movement wasn't anywhere near his, so Bucky used his full weight to keep Logan and his weapon pressed into the floor.

All this while dazed from the blow to his head. Luckily he'd had a lot of drunk brawling experience.

“Logan,” he gritted out, trying to make the old man hear him over his nonsensical shouting. Logan must've had a confused episode again, maybe he didn't even know where he was. “Logan, listen to me. It's James. You're safe. This is your room.”

Logan thrashed under him, bucking wildly and snarling at him. Bucky was worried he'd try to bite him next, and Bucky didn't have enough hands to hold him back.

“Hey, James, man,” Luis's voice, “they sent me to... Whoa! Hey, man, what's going on?”

“Luis, go get Scott!” Bucky ordered.

He needed someone calm and experienced in these situations.

“Okay! Okay! Right...” Luis disappeared again, and Bucky tried to keep a hold of Logan until Scott arrived.

His head sure hurt now, pain blooming out from where he'd been struck.

_Thanks a lot, Logan._

Now he had to hold onto the older man without hurting him until help arrived. “It's okay, Logan,” he tried reassuring him.

As soon as Scott skidded into the room, he dropped to the floor to help restrain Logan. “Hey, cool it, pal,” Scott told him firmly. “Let's stay calm. No one's gonna hurt you.”

Logan was still lashing out, but was fast losing his strength. He started to sag as Scott and Bucky held him down.

“I told Luis to page Hank,” Scott said under his breath.

Bucky nodded in response, then winced. The movement hurt his head.

“You okay?” Scott asked.

“Not sure,” Bucky admitted. “Let's deal with this first.” Then he spoke louder, to Logan, “It's okay. Nothing bad is happening. It's just James and Scott. You know us.”

Logan gave no indication that he knew where he was, which was worrying. He stopped thrashing so much, as he had difficulty breathing.

“Hey, it's okay,” Scott soothed, easing up on him a little. “Nice slow breaths, pal. It's gonna be fine.”

Bucky wished he could believe that. His heart raced, thudding in his ears. He had to focus on Logan, even though his vision blurred.

“Big, deep breaths,” Scott told him, but Logan either couldn't understand or couldn't hear.

Bucky wasn't sure how much longer he could restrain him for. His head really hurt. Thankfully more people arrived –the sound of high heels on the hard floor had to be their manager, Hope Pym– and they bustled into the room. Bucky couldn't see how many people, but Dr Hank Pym crouched down beside them, brandishing a syringe.

“Easy, Logan,” Dr Pym said, “this is a mild sedative. We don't want you to hurt yourself.”

Logan grumbled in response, but Dr Pym was already gently inserting the needle to Logan's arm.

“There we go,” Dr Pym said, checking Logan's pulse at his wrist as he made eye contact with him. “It'll all feel better in a moment, don't you worry.”

He had a soothing voice, Bucky thought, an authority about him that commanded attention. Bucky appreciated how Dr Pym was with the residents, and with Logan now; he spoke to the elderly veteran like he _mattered_.

Bucky hoped Logan was all right; eyes drooping, and his body finally going completely slack against them.

“Okay,” Dr Pym said, gesturing for Bucky and Scott to let go. “Now you're feeling a bit calmer,” he told Logan, “we're going to help you back to bed. You didn't hurt anything when you fell, did you?”

“Uh...” Bucky started to say, trying to get his words together. “He didn't fall, I kinda, um... knocked him down. I broke his fall, but maybe check his legs... that's where I... um, kicked him.”

“I see,” Dr Pym said calmly. “All right, let me quickly check before we move him. Logan, I'm just going to check your legs. Tell me if anything hurts.”

As Dr Pym was carefully feeling Logan's legs through his pyjama pants, Scott whispered to Bucky, “Dude, you _kicked_ him?”

“Not that hard,” Bucky hissed back, “more like, knocked his legs out before he hit me again.”

“He hit you?” Scott said, louder.

Bucky winced. “Yeah, back of my head, my shoulder...” Thankfully not his left shoulder, as that would've hurt more. “And my face.”

“Shit,” Scott whispered.

Dr Pym looked up. “Okay. I think we're good here. Scott, Luis, would you help Logan back to bed? Hope,” he directed to his daughter, “we need–”

“Logan's therapist?” Hope said, already tapping away on her cell. “On their way.”

“Right.” Dr Pym's mouth quirked in a smile. “Then that leaves...” He turned in his crouched position to face Bucky. “You, James. You said your head was struck?”

Bucky, still sat on the floor, said, “Yeah, he jumped me from behind with his walking stick.”

“I see.” Dr Pym moved to examine the back of Bucky's head. Bucky felt Dr Pym's hands touch and feel his scalp, gently searching, until they found the sore spot and Bucky tried not to flinch. “Yeah, that'll be a bump, all right,” Dr Pym confirmed. “Skin doesn't appear to be broken, but I'll check again in better light.”

He came to crouch in front of Bucky, looking right at him. He held up his index finger. “Watch my finger.”

Bucky almost giggled, a hundred dirty jokes flooding his mind. He had to remember this was his boss; Dr Pym owned the care home. Bucky kept quiet and did as he was told, although the close proximity of a handsome older man messed with him a bit. Dr Pym had a beard, neatly trimmed. It was as silver in colour as his hair. He was still a good looking guy.

When Dr Pym frowned, Bucky realised he hadn't paid much attention to his finger after all.

“Okay,” Dr Pym said gently, touching Bucky's shoulder, “I'm going to look at you in my office, as soon as I've settled Logan. All right, James?”

“Okay?” Bucky said, unsure. He was sure he'd be fine.

“Okay, then.” Dr Pym patted his shoulder. “Stay down there a minute.” He went to get up, a little stiff and with a mild grunt, but that was nothing really, Bucky was aware he'd started to grunt himself when he got off the couch at home, and he had to be a couple decades younger than Pym was.

“Luis,” Dr Pym directed, “you take James to my office. Scott, you're here with me.”

Scott stayed with Dr Pym as he began talking to Logan, who was now in bed.

Luis stood over Bucky, and hovered uncertainly. “Hey, man, you want a hand up?”

“I think I'm okay.” Bucky slowly began to get up, testing how he felt.

It wasn't so bad, he thought. He didn't feel sick or dizzy, or anything. His head ached, and he felt a bit woozy, but that could be from lack of sleep and all the excitement as much as a small bang on the head.

Upright, he stood still for a moment, Luis hovering at his side. Bucky felt very tall, like a skyscraper. “Um...” Okay, maybe he was a little dizzy after all.

Hope stepped in, directing Luis to use the spare wheelchair –the one Logan hated– and Bucky to sit in it. He tried to protest but she insisted.

“Take him to Hank's office, and keep an eye on him,” she instructed, still checking her cell phone. “I'll go cover the lunch hall with Peter until this is all sorted out.”

She left the room and headed off, and Luis wheeled Bucky away in the opposite direction.

Bucky felt completely ridiculous sitting in a chair, being wheeled along. Luis was muttering to himself about what'd happened, but Bucky was too distracted by the surreal experience. “I think I'm having a vision of my future,” he grumbled. “Being wheeled around in an old folk's home.”

Luis chuckled. “No way, no way. Forget this place, man. Me, I'm gonna retire to a beach. Sea, sun, sand.”

“Sounds good,” Bucky agreed. He rested his elbows on the arm-rests, rubbing his face with his hands, forgot about his sore cheek until he'd already rubbed it. “Shit. What a day.”

“Yeah, no doubt. No doubt,” Luis said. “We still got another four hours to go.”

Bucky groaned.

 

Considering how short staffed they were, Bucky wasn't expecting Dr Pym anytime soon. Luis had wheeled him to the office that Dr Pym used –which staff had dubbed the medical bay– then promptly sat in one of the chairs and got his cell phone out like he was on a break.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, and went to get out of the chair. “I'll be fine, Luis. You don't have to wait with me.”

“Boss lady said to keep and eye on you, man,” Luis replied, eyes glued to his phone.

“Right,” Bucky said wryly. “Of course.” He glanced at the gurney, really tempted to get up there and just take a fucking nap. Instead, he moved into a the seat opposite Luis –comfy and padded, so it was probably Dr Pym's– and got his phone out too, which thankfully wasn't damaged.

Bucky opened his browser and Googled _concussion_. This wasn't the first time he'd been knocked on the head, and certainly wouldn't be his first concussion. It didn't feel that bad though. He blinked at his screen, trying to read through the Google results. The words looked a little fuzzy, but Bucky didn't have his glasses on either, so that didn't help.

The results listed headache, vomiting, dizziness or feeling dazed.

Bucky read through more symptoms, deduced he only had mild symptoms and would be fine, so he went to check Facebook instead.

He hadn't received any new messages from anyone, and he was curious to see if Sam or Riley had updated their status or anything. They had taken photos of Thursday night at the karaoke, but when Bucky couldn't find any new pictures, he remembered it'd been a secret outing due to in-law family politics.

And Steve didn't even have a Facebook account.

Bucky deliberated before opening a new text message to Steve. He wasn't about to say, _hey, Steve, shit went down at work just now_. That'd only make him worry. But Bucky did want to talk to him, to someone to who would care. He wrote, _hey. How's your day?_

He sent the message before he could second guess himself. Then he watched his screen. There was no instant reply, and Bucky tried to quell his disappointment. He went back to Facebook to kill some time.

Twenty minutes later, still no reply from Steve.

Bucky wondered what he was doing. It was almost midday on a Saturday, new year's eve. Was he asleep? Was he out somewhere? Was he on his own or with his fiancée?

Bucky frowned at his phone. He didn't like not knowing what Steve was doing. This limbo feeling sucked.

Someone walked into the office, and Bucky looked up from his phone at the same time Luis did. Dr Pym stood there. “Well,” he said, mouth quirking as he watched them both put their phones away. “Eventful day. How are you feeling, James? You haven't passed out or been sick, I take it?”

“No,” Bucky said. “I checked some symptoms and I think it's mostly headache and dizziness.”

“I see.” Dr Pym turned to Luis. “Thank you, Luis. You can get back to what you were doing now.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Luis got to his feet and left the office. He whistled a tune as he walked off down the hall.

Dr Pym pulled the vacated seat closer to Bucky, and sat.

“How's Logan?” Bucky asked.

Dr Pym glanced at him, like he was assessing why Bucky had asked, then said, “The sedative is still in effect, and he's safe in bed. No injuries, which is good. As soon as his therapist gets here, she'll talk to him, then we'll discuss his care plan.”

That all seemed fair to Bucky. He didn't want Logan to be penalised or anything. “I'm not sure what I did to, er... set him off,” Bucky admitted, “but if you let me know what it was, I'll make sure I don't do it again.”

Dr Pym's lips quirked in a small smile. “That is exactly the kind of attitude I like to see, James. But,” he let out a breath, “we have considered moving Logan to a more specialised home. As a resident's needs change, so must their care package.”

Bucky was floored.

_Shit._

“Move him where?”

“Probably to a care home that specialises in residents with dementia, and the staff to look after him. I have a contact that I'll be consulting with first, but this has been on the cards for a while now.”

“But... he'd _hate_ the move. What if that makes him, like... worse?”

“I appreciate your concern, James. Believe me, it's in Logan's best interest. Unfortunately we are just not set up to deal with patients who require a more in depth care package. Not to mention that dementia is not my area of expertise.”

Bucky wracked his brain for more reasons to keep Logan here, but he definitely felt fuzzier than normal; ideas just weren't coming to him. Short of threatening his boss with an appeal on Logan's behalf, Bucky couldn't think of anything.

“Anyway,” Dr Pym said, shifting closer, “let's take a look at you. I'm going to shine a small light in your eyes now, all right?”

Bucky submitted to the check up. He got a little distracted by how close Dr Pym was, frowning in concentration. Bucky could smell his cologne, too, which was odd because he hadn't noticed the smell earlier. He wasn't about to ask, hey, did you put on cologne? Because that sounded like a come on, and Bucky was mostly sure that Dr Pym had a straight vibe going on.

“Still dizzy?” Dr Pym asked.

“I haven't got up or anything, but feels more like... a bad hangover? I guess.”

“Hmm.” Dr Pym sat back in his chair, pulled out a card and wrote on the back. “I'm sure you'll be all right, but concussive symptoms can appear hours or days after the event, so I want you to take it easy. This is my number,” he handed Bucky the card, “and you call me if any symptoms appear, or feel free to see your own doctor. I'll prescribe you Tylenol for the headache.”

Bucky stared at the card, then at Dr Pym, who was now writing a prescription. “Wait, what? Are you... sending me home?”

“Yes,” Dr Pym confirmed, not even glancing up. “See how you feel on Monday. If you're symptom free, then you can come in.”

That meant missing his ten hour early shift tomorrow, plus the three and a half hours that were left today.

“Uh... is this paid or unpaid leave?”

Dr Pym handed over the prescription. “Your pay won't be affected. Call me if you're concerned at any time.”

“I... Okay.”

Wow, Bucky thought; a paid day off tomorrow. He wouldn't say no to that.

“If you take that prescription to the dispensary upstairs, they'll get you the Tylenol. I think you should wait here another half hour, just to be on the safe side.”

“Um, okay.” Bucky looked at his prescription and the card he'd been given, turning them over in his hands. “Um, Dr Pym? Can I check in on Logan before I go?”

“Maybe not today,” Dr Pym told him. “He'll still be here next week, James. You can see him then. I'll make sure we remove the walking stick and any other blunt instruments from his room.”

He had that small smile again, and Bucky smiled back.

“That'd be helpful, yeah.”

 

~ ~ ~

 

It was weird having the staff room all to himself later.

Bucky undid his hair and ran a hand through it. There was a lump on the back of his head now, but no mess because the skin hadn't broken. Bucky went to his locker, and started taking off his tunic, which still had the food stains all over it from Logan's breakfast cart. When he dumped the dirty tunic in the hamper, Bucky considered taking a quick photo of it for Steve, to show him how un-sexy the uniform looked in reality.

Bucky glanced in the mirror on the wall. He still had his black long sleeve top on, which he always wore under his tunic anyway, and his black trousers. The burglar look, Scott and Luis often joked.

Still no message from Steve.

Bucky wanted to text him again, but held off.

He was about to change into a clean top, when his eye caught the pile of clean, folded tunics on a chair. The laundry was done in-house, and seeing the neatly pressed tunics, Bucky had a sly idea.

Quickly he pulled off his top, and selected one of the clean tunics. He put it on, buttoned it up, the buttons straining across his belly –and he _really_ had to remember to request a bigger size– and looked in the mirror.

It looked different without the top underneath. Even in summer, Bucky wore under-shirts or t-shirts. The uniform wasn't all that thick, and being a light color meant that nipples were kinda visible.

Bucky adjusted the tunic in the mirror, unbuttoning the top few buttons and pulling the collar wide open. The scars on the left side of his chest showed, so Bucky rearranged the collar so it covered the left side, and exposed the clear skin on his right.

Thankfully the sleeves were long enough to cover his shoulder scars.

Satisfied, Bucky ruffled his hair a bit, and pulled a few faces in the mirror. He pouted his lips, turning to the side to check himself out.

If anyone walked in right now, he'd absolutely die.

But no one did; they were all busy doing the lunches.

Feeling reckless, Bucky got his phone out, and snapped a few shots of himself. He wasn't usually one for mirror selfies, and after he hurriedly got changed again, he didn't do anything with the pictures, he didn't even look at them.

Maybe he'd just delete them later, he thought, pulling on his outdoor coat and hat.

But... maybe he'd keep them. Just in case he felt like sending them to Steve.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Once he was home, Bucky had a shower and went straight to bed. He slept heavily, and woke up some time in the early morning. His first thought when he checked the alarm was that he'd slept through it and was late for work, but then he saw the yellow post-it note he must've written for himself that said: _head injury, sent home. Call Pym if bad. Back Monday?_

Oh, Bucky thought.

Well, all right.

He went back to sleep, only surfacing later to use the bathroom. Then he went to grab a glass of water from the kitchen, spotting Clint leaning against the counter, munching down toast.

“Hey,” Clint greeted with his mouth full. “Happy new year, man. You on a late today?”

“Happy new year,” Bucky yawned in reply. “No, back in tomorrow.” He took his water back to his room.

Bucky's head thumped, so he took some more of the Tylenol before getting under his covers again. He hoped his headache would fuck off. What use was a day off if he felt like shit?

He slept some more, finally rolling onto his back for a stretch at around eight, and stared up at his ceiling. Okay, he was awake now. That'd been a very long sleep.

His head ached, but more in a dull and distant way. There was a sore spot on the back of his head, Bucky felt it laying on his back. As he breathed in, Bucky could've sworn he smelled burned cheese.

Must be Clint, he thought.

Bucky got up, pulled on pyjama pants and his dressing gown. He picked up his phone, checked it, then slipped it into his pocket.

One message from Scott, nothing urgent. A meme from Peter. And nothing from Steve yet. Bucky tried not to feel disappointed.

He wandered out to the kitchen, fully expecting to see Clint there, burning something.

But the apartment was empty.

Weird.

Bucky walked around the kitchen counters, sniffed, tried to locate the source of the cheese smell.

Maybe Clint had taken whatever it was to his room?

While his coffee filtered, Bucky went to Clint's door. It was ajar, and Bucky carefully peeped in. Clint was sound asleep in bed. No cheese or food anywhere in sight.

Okay, weird. Maybe the neighbors were grilling cheese somewhere in the building.

Bucky gently shut Clint's door, and went back to the kitchen, taking extra care to be quiet as Clint was asleep. As room-mates, they worked well that way, always moving about like ninjas so as not to wake anyone who'd been on shift.

Bucky took his coffee over to the couch, and put the TV on with the sound off. He could get his headphones later, but this would do for now. He drank his coffee, then got out his phone to text Steve:

_Happy new year :)_

Bucky watched the screen for a moment, but no reply came right away.

Steve must've been to some new year's eve party, Bucky thought. Maybe he was still asleep.

He bit his lip, a nervous habit, and set his phone on the coffee table where he'd see it light up if he got any new messages. He huddled into the couch with the cushions, and tried not to think about what Steve was doing.

 

As the day wore on, Bucky's headache came back, a lot worse than before. Maybe watching TV hadn't helped, but he didn't have much else to do. He didn't feel like going outside, where it was usually noisy. Plus, it was new year's day, everything would surely be shut.

He took Tylenol, drank water, and used a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a dish cloth resting on the couch for the back of his head, which thumped and thumped.

When Clint surfaced in the late afternoon, in pyjama pants and a t-shirt, he came to sit with Bucky on the couch, giving him serious side eye as he sipped his coffee.

“What?” Bucky muttered, leaning back on his peas with his eyes half closed.

Clint made some hmming noises, then said, “There's a bruise on your face, dude.”

Bucky knew that already. He'd noticed earlier. Looked like a light smudge on his cheek. No biggie.

“Yeah. Incident at work.”

“Oh. Right.” Clint sounded relieved. “I thought... uh, never mind.”

Bucky carefully turned to look at Clint. “You thought...?”

Clint grinned. “For a second there, I thought that loud sex guy was back on the scene.”

“No,” Bucky huffed lightly. “Not loud sex guy. He moved far, far away.”

Who even knew what T'Challa was doing right now, Bucky thought. At least _he'd_ replied to messages. Unlike _some_ people.

“So,” Clint prompted, “you and couch dude, huh?”

Bucky smiled wryly. “'S complicated.”

“Uh oh. That is a word I do not like.”

“Yeah, sucks.”

“Tell him to sort his shit out.” Clint slurped the last of his coffee, and got up.

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed absently.

“I'm making pancakes,” Clint announced. “I assume you want some?”

“Yes,” Bucky replied weakly. “You're literally the best.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Hey, did you grill cheese earlier?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Um...” Clint paused, like he was thinking about it. “Yeah, pretty sure.”

“Oh.”

Weird. Bucky could still smell cooked cheese.

 

Bucky texted Dr Pym later in the evening to say he didn't feel well, more because he was exhausted and in need of a personal day. He hadn't taken unscheduled time off in months, like, over a year, and they could just deal for one more day.

Dr Pym replied that was okay, and asked how he was feeling. Bucky gave him a run down, told him about the headache and mentioned the smells he assumed must be imaginary. Dr Pym confirmed that taste and smell could be affected, probably only short term, and told Bucky to text him tomorrow to check in.

Bucky considered attaching a happy new year gif to his reply –not that he was trying to flirt with Dr Pym or anything– when he saw new photos in his camera gallery and realised they were him.

_What..._

Bucky abandoned texting and looked through the numerous selfies he had clearly taken in a mirror at work, in his uniform.

“The fuck?” he muttered, then quickly checked that he hadn't sent these to anyone.

He hadn't, which was a relief.

Once the shock had worn off, he looked at the pictures again, deleting ones he didn't like. _Wow_ , his face looked _so chubby_ in some of these. He needed to grow his stubble back in soon as.

A couple of the pictures were... not bad, he supposed. Like, a lucky combination of a good angle and a not-dumb facial expression made for a halfway decent selfie. If the fact that he was posing like some drunk person in a club's mirror was totally overlooked.

_Seriously, Barnes, what were you on?_

It wasn't like he could claim he was drunk at work when he took these; just had a bump on the head. The only reason he kept the pictures now was because of Steve, and how obsessed with his uniform Steve had been.

Should he send Steve a pic unprompted? Would that provoke a reply, at long last? It'd been nearly two days since Steve's last message.

But... maybe Steve was busy breaking up with his fiancée this weekend, and if so it wouldn't be appropriate to send dumb selfies.

No, he'd wait to hear from Steve. No matter how much he itched to text Steve again, he would wait.

 

~ ~ ~

 

On Monday morning, Bucky woke up feeling a little less rubbish than before; the headache was still there but definitely not as bad as yesterday.

Clint must've already come home from his night shift –judging from the snores rumbling from his bedroom– and left Bucky a small gift box of flavoured vodkas in the kitchen. The post-it note said: _B, got these from work. HNY! Clint. P.S. I know, I'm awesome._

Bucky smiled to himself, and proceeded to work his way through the vodka in lieu of breakfast. He reasoned that he hadn't had his new year's eve drink, and it'd been a thoroughly crappy weekend, so he deserved this.

Still no word from Steve.

Bucky was trying his best not to dwell on it. He had alcohol, and a whole host of TV series and movies to catch up on. He was fine, and Steve was bound to get in touch eventually.

Hopefully with a good reason for the extended silence, Bucky thought.

 

He was busy watching some new British reality show called _Too Ugly For Love_ , with the subtitles on so he didn't wake Clint. He was getting really invested in the dating troubles for people living with extraordinary afflictions, when his phone flashed for attention. Bucky put his vodka aside, and checked his messages.

A new message from Riley on Facebook messenger. Correction, two new messages.

Bucky picked up his peach flavor vodka miniature, and downed the last of it. He had a pretty good buzz going on barely two drinks, and he hoped it wasn't about to get ruined with bad news.

At least he had another three vodkas to go.

He opened messenger and read:

_Well hi! Shall we crack open the champagne now, or is it too soon? I can't believe I'm missing this! I woulda booked vaycay if I'd known!!!!_

Bucky frowned at the message. _Was this about Steve?_ He'd have to ask.

 

James Barnes:

I don't follow...

 

Riley Johnson:

omfg

 

Riley Johnson:

You and Steve!!!!

 

James Barnes:

What do you mean?

 

Riley Johnson:

It's all right u can stop being coy!! He told Sam everything.

 

James Barnes:

Everything?

 

Riley Johnson:

You know Steve can't lie for shit. So yeah. EVERYTHING.

 

Riley Johnson:

Sam owes me 20 bucks!! lol

 

Riley Johnson:

Hey I'm only teasing, sorry. You're not freaking out or anything are you?

 

James Barnes:

Should I be? (yes I totally am btw!)

 

Riley Johnson:

Yeah, you are!!! Must have some fuckin class A dick to turn a guy like that.

 

James Barnes:

omg. Wait, what did Steve actually say?

 

Riley Johnson:

I'll tell you but you gotta go to brunch with me when I'm back!! I'm buying. I refuse to miss out on all this!

 

James Barnes:

OK, OK, brunch!! Please tell me what Steve said?

 

Riley Johnson:

Hasn't he told you yet? Sam messaged me earlier, said Steve spent the night on our couch and told Sam he'd called off the wedding and shit. Sam asked if it was bc of you, Steve said yes (CALLED IT, thank you v much!) and that's all I know so far. Sam must be with a client bc he's not answering me rn.

 

Riley Johnson:

This is like some epic romance btw. I love it!!!

 

James Barnes:

I gotta go, can we talk later?

 

Riley Johnson:

OK I can take a hint! Remember you promised me brunch!! I'm back in a couple days :) :)

 

James Barnes:

Sure thing :) Thanks!

 

Riley Johnson:

Go get 'em tiger!

 

Bucky opened a new shot of vodka and downed half of it. His heart pounded, but in a good way. He was so jittery with excitement that he had to stand up as he texted Steve:

_Hey xx_

Bucky paced back and forth as he waited, phone in hand, for a reply.

C'mon, Steve, he thought. Come on.

Miraculously, Steve replied a moment later.

 

10:51 Steve:

Hey Buck. Sorry for not replying until now. It's been a tiring w/e. How are you?

 

10:52 Bucky:

I'm ok :) what you doing rn?

 

10:53 Steve:

Not much today. Don't go back to work until tomorrow. U?

 

10:53 Bucky:

I'm at home :)

 

10:55 Steve:

Day off?

 

10:55 Bucky:

Yeah :P Want to join me?

 

Bucky bit his lip after he sent the message, hoping Steve would say yes. He just really, really wanted to see Steve right now. It felt like it'd been forever since he'd seen him or talked to him; nearly three long days. And now they were finally talking again, Bucky felt light-headed over it.

When Steve didn't reply instantly, Bucky quickly attached one of his ridiculous selfies, and sent the photo to Steve.

Steve didn't respond for a full minute, and Bucky was on the verge of regret when at last Steve replied, and the only thing in his reply was a bunch of heart-eye emojis.

Bucky grinned in relief, and then Steve's next message came through:

_Yes, I want to join u, I'm leaving rn!! C U soon! <3 xx_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go see [Bucky's selfie](http://gyrhs.tumblr.com/post/159797205994/commission-for-roe87-its-bucky-barnes-in-an) done by artist [Gyrhs](http://gyrhs.tumblr.com)!
> 
>  
> 
> ~ ~ ~
> 
> Full content warning:
> 
> Bucky has anxiety about his body, how he looks (overweight issues, old scars on his shoulder) which affects his sober-morning-after with Steve. There is some dysphoria here, as he focuses on the parts of himself he hates the most, and thinks they're the most important.
> 
> These scenes are relatively brief, but frequent. 
> 
> There is also some brief but dramatic action at work when one of the residents has a confused but violent episode and strikes Bucky a couple times, resulting in minor concussion, but nothing major. The team have to subdue the resident with the doctor and a sedative.
> 
> If I missed any warnings, let me know. Take care :)
> 
> ~ ~ ~


	6. Maverick, You Just Did An Incredibly Brave Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new year, a break up, a tearful reunion, and some domestic lovin', starring Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers.
> 
> (LAST CHAPTER! FIC COMPLETE)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: appearance by a character we haven't seen yet, please see End Notes if you want to know!
> 
> ~ ~ ~
> 
> Author's note: Sorry for the delay! I decided to wrap this story up early, rather than leave it hanging. HAPPY ENDINGS WERE NEEDED!!! But I'd had a different plot planned, and I had to bypass all that to basically jump to a happy ending. So if you think this chapter seems a bit rushed or you expected something different... that is why, lol. I hope you enjoy it anyway. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> ~ ~ ~

 

If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything

 

~ Mark Twain

 

 

 

 

Bucky's playlist

_Would I Lie To You? -_ Charles & Eddie

 _If Your Girl Only Knew -_ Aaliyah

 _No Scrubs -_ TLC

 _Two Can Play That Game –_ Bobby Brown

 _My Lovin' (You're Never Gonna Get It) –_ En Vogue

 _End Of The Road –_ Boyz II Men

 

 

 

 

When Bucky buzzed Steve into the building nearly ninety minutes later, he was admittedly kind of drunk. He'd finished off all his vodka in a bid to stay calm, otherwise he'd start worrying over his appearance.

He had managed to change into halfway decent clothes, wash his face and brush his teeth.

That was as good as he could manage at short notice.

He waited anxiously by the door, as Clint was still asleep in his room so he wanted to cut down on any extra noise.

Bucky's nerves were starting to burn through the alcohol, which sucked. He'd hoped to stay warm and tipsy for a while longer yet.

When he heard footsteps approach, Bucky opened the door. Steve stepped into view and gave him a shy smile.

He looked tired, like he hadn't slept. Bucky beckoned him inside, noticed the take-out bags Steve was carrying, bringing hot spicy smells into the apartment.

"Hey," Bucky said quietly. "Clint's asleep, he's on another night shift later."

"Okay." Steve looked around. "Shall I...?" He indicated his bags, and Bucky led him to the kitchen area.

Steve set the bags down. Chinese take out, and a brown paper bag that clinked on the counter suspiciously like a bottle.

Bucky was going to comment on it –alcohol and take-out food for lunch?– but then Steve turned to him and smiled again, and it was a sad smile.

Bucky didn't hesitate, he opened his arms and drew Steve into a hug. Steve wrapped his arms around him and held on tight.

Bucky adjusted himself as they slotted together and buried his face in Steve's sculpted shoulder. All the tension and worry ebbed away as he held Steve against him, felt him breathe in and out. Bucky inhaled Steve's smell, closed his eyes. Steve in turn buried his face in Bucky's hair, and they just embraced quietly for the longest moment.

Bucky didn't want to let go, didn't want to deal with life right now, he just wanted to stay with Steve.

Steve inhaled and let it out shakily. "I broke it off."

Bucky tensed, his mind clearing of everything to pinpoint on Steve's words. "Huh?"

"The wedding," Steve clarified, "everything. I broke it off." He pulled back slowly, a hand trailing in Bucky's loose hair as Steve searched his eyes. "Um, yeah. It wasn't great, but it's done. I went to stay with Sam yesterday right after it happened. I'm sorry I didn't call right away, it was a lot to..."

His eyes dropped, and he exhaled heavily.

"It was just a lot."

Bucky swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "Oh," he managed.

He wanted to ask a million questions, but a voice inside his head told him not to get his hopes up.

"Uh... so... What now?"

"Now..." Steve gave him a small smile. "Would you eat Chinese food and drink whiskey with me?"

"Oh, that's what that bottle is," Bucky teased. "Yeah, I could definitely eat. All I've had today is vodka."

"Late celebrations?"

"Uh, something like that." Bucky watched Steve as he turned to the food and started unpacking the cartons of take-out. He made himself useful and found two plates that were clean, and some forks.

"You wanna pick what to have?" Steve asked.

"No, I'll just have whatever," Bucky said, watching Steve open the containers and distribute them onto the plates. "Smells amazing. Thanks."

"Well, I thought I'd keep you sweet," Steve murmured, handing Bucky his plate.

A quip was on Bucky's lips but he hesitated. "Okay," he mumbled.

When they'd got their food ready, and Steve tucked the whiskey bottle under his arm, they took it all over to the couch and sat.

There were already cups on the table, and Bucky lined up two so Steve could pour out a couple fingers of whiskey each.

It was a bourbon, not a cheap brand either.

"Here's to the new year." Steve lifted his glass, waiting for Bucky to toast with him.

Bucky smirked and tapped his glass to Steve's. "Happy new year, punk."

Steve grinned, and knocked back his whiskey in one go.

"Whoa. You mean business." Bucky only drank half of his. "This is good shit, you should savour it."

"I'm trying to catch up." Steve gestured at the empty vodka miniatures littering the coffee table. "You got a head start on me."

Bucky shook his head, setting down his glass as he went to pick up his plate of food. "That's pretty much worn off now."

"Is the vodka why you sent me that selfie of you posing in your uniform?"

Bucky felt his face flush, and he tried to ignore it. "Um. Yeah, maybe."

Steve chuckled, digging into his noodles. "Still a flirt when you've had a couple drinks, Barnes."

"Oh, look who's talking, mister one-drink-and-I'm-anybody's."

They laughed quietly, and ate their food.

Bucky concentrated on acting calm, and trying not to freak out that Steve was here and he'd actually ended his engagement.

What did it mean? What would he do now? For all Bucky knew Steve wanted to be single for a while.

He tried really hard not to get his hopes up.

"Oh, God, I can't eat any more," Steve groaned, setting down his plate and laying back on the cushions.

"You'll want more in a half hour," Bucky said.

"Yeah, but that's the beauty of take-out," Steve replied. "It's good hot or cold."

"One hundred percent disagree." Bucky finished his plate too and set it down. "More whiskey?"

"Yeah, hit me up." Steve smiled, settling into the couch cushions.

He seemed more at ease now. Or maybe he was just tired and full of food.

Bucky poured them some more whiskey and handed a glass to Steve, then sat back with his own.

The TV was still playing on mute with the subtitles, some corny crime drama that Bucky was secretly into.

"I could put the sound on low if you want?" he offered.

Steve shrugged. "I'm happy with some peace and quiet, actually. Been a loud weekend."

"Oh," Bucky said softly. "You go out for new year's?"

"Supposed to," Steve sighed, then huffed a laugh. "I didn't want to, and it sparked an argument. Then it all kind of came out."

Bucky tried not to side eye Steve. He was acutely aware of his pulse beating in his ears.

"What came out?"

"Not me," Steve said quietly. "I'd been all set to tell her, but I lost my nerve. And I felt a bit like, I don't know, maybe bringing it up then would've been too much for her?" He sighed. "It didn't go how I thought, and it also went exactly how I thought. If that makes sense?"

"Um..." Bucky didn't know what to say. He felt wired, bursting to know what had happened, or what Steve planned to do now. He wanted to jump across the couch and shake Steve until he made sense.

"So she doesn't know about me, or...?"

Steve shook his head. "I said I didn't want to get married, and that our relationship was over. She took it pretty bad. I think if I'd said I'm bi on top of that, and I'm... you know, seeing a guy, that would be a lot for her."

"You're bi?" Bucky found himself asking.

Of all the things he could ask.

"Yeah." Steve looked at him cautiously. "Aren't you?"

"I..." Bucky blinked, surprised by that. "I think I'm just into guys. Or that's how it's felt the last few years anyway."

"Okay," Steve said softly. "I guess I never asked, but what about dating?"

"What do you mean?" Bucky concentrated on his glass, fiddling with it in his hands. "It's mostly been guys. I don't think I've even been out with a woman in, like, four years."

"No, not that. I meant... um, seeing people, do you do it, like..." Steve shifted in place, shook his head. "I'm saying this all wrong. I mean, do you prefer being monogamous or...?"

"Oh." Bucky breathed out in relief. "I think I'd be very happy being monogamous."

He shot Steve a shy smile.

"Have to find a date first."

"Oh. Right." Steve smiled back at him, then sat forward and placed his drink on the table. "Um. Buck? Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah?"

"Uh, so..." Steve's hands rubbed nervously over his thighs, encased in tight jeans. Bucky watched them absently. "How long," Steve asked, "is, um... How long is the right amount of time after breaking off my... you know, making myself single again, for me to then ask you out on a date?"

Bucky looked up at him, surprised. "A date?"

"Yeah." Steve looked nervous, but determined. "I know I'm dropping a lot on you, again. I just... I wanted to ask. We could go to dinner, or the park? And talk about us? Like, you and me?"

He looked at Bucky, blue eyes searching and hopeful.

Bucky felt heat rush to his face as his eyes filled with tears. He couldn't even get a word out, just started crying and tried to hide his face.

"Hey, hey." Steve moved in, placed his hands on Bucky's shoulders. "Did I say something wrong?"

Bucky shook his head no. The tears wouldn't stop though.

"Okay, give me your drink..." Steve took the glass from Bucky's hand, set both their glasses down on the table. "Now come here." He opened his arms and gently pulled Bucky in.

Bucky went willingly, melting into Steve and his huge arms. He really tried to get himself under control, but being held when he felt so vulnerable, when it'd been so long, eroded all his defences. He cried and cried.

Steve held him, rubbed his back and brushed the long hair out of his tear stained face.

"It's okay, Buck," he murmured. "It's okay."

Finally the tears stopped, and Bucky sniffed with a runny nose. "Sorry," he muttered, trying to pull away.

"Don't be sorry." Steve let him go, watched Bucky grab a paper napkin from the table and blow his nose.

"You want me to put on _Old Yeller_ so you can pretend that's why you were crying?"

Bucky laughed in surprise, and shoved half-heartedly at Steve's arm. "Why would you even bring that up, you jerk? That movie was brutal!"

Steve laughed, because he was a little shit. "Never seen you cry so hard at anything else. Thought it might help."

Bucky huffed a laugh, and sat forward so he could drink the rest of his whiskey.

Steve was quiet a moment before asking, "So, is that a yes?"

Bucky stared at his empty glass, took a deep breath in. "I need to tell you something."

Steve sat forward too, instantly alert. "What?"

"Uh, it's... it was a long time ago," Bucky said. "I was on a motorbike, had a crash. My shoulder, it..." He felt Steve's eyes on him, but he couldn't look at him. "My shoulder took a hit, got damaged. I got back almost full movement, but it hurts sometimes and... it's not pretty, Steve."

"What do you mean?"

"It's scarred," Bucky told him. "It's ugly."

Steve seemed to take a moment to absorb that, then he shifted closer and carefully placed a hand on Bucky's knee. "You said it hurts?"

"Off and on," Bucky said, watching Steve's hand. "It was muscle and nerve damage, so it's like a frozen shoulder. Sometimes it's fine, sometimes it hurts."

"I'm sorry, Buck."

Bucky shook his head, dismissing the apology. He didn't need sympathy, he needed Steve to understand.

"I still have arthritis," Steve said.

Bucky looked at him in surprise.

Steve smiled. "Yeah. You should see me in summer, it's actually worse. My knees, ankles and feet all swell up, and it's painful to walk."

"Shit," Bucky muttered.

"Yep." Steve leaned gently into Bucky's side, just barely touching arms. "Does my arthritis bother you?"

"No, Steve."

"Good. Then why would your shoulder bother me?"

"It's... it's different." Bucky swallowed, and looked away, embarrassed. "It's ugly, and I don't like people seeing it. I prefer to keep it covered up."

"I felt ugly most of my life," Steve confessed. "And I'm not going to ever tell you how to feel, Bucky, I just need you to believe me when I tell you that nothing would stop me loving you. You're the most beautiful person I've ever known."

"Uh, um." Bucky felt his face flushing hard. "Oh."

"Are you embarrassed?" Steve said with amusement.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"We better get drunk then." Steve reached for the whiskey, poured them some more.

"Thanks," Bucky said, accepting the glass. He drank almost all of it in one go.

Steve did the same. "See? Much better."

"If you say so." Bucky drank the rest of his, then poured some more. "Steve... are you sure this is what you want?"

"What? Getting drunk?"

"No, you dork." Bucky drank another shot's worth, the pleasant burn of the alcohol going down nicely.

"What then?" Steve held his empty glass out for more, and Bucky poured him some. "You're not breaking up with me, are you?"

" _No_ ," Bucky said. "No, I... I just don't want you to make a mistake, that's all."

Steve grunted, and knocked back his glass. "Not this again. Look, Buck. Life is short, and I want to spend it with you. However that comes, that's what I want. You make me happy. What more is there to it?"

"I don't know," Bucky said, bowled over. "Ignore me, I think I'm just in shock, that's all."

Steve chuckled at that. "Well, if you give me the green light, you won't get rid of me. You know that right?"

"Green light? What do you mean, green light?" Bucky looked at Steve and huffed. "You're drunk already, aren't you."

"Yeah, think so." Steve grinned dopily. "Green light, Buck. It's your call. Or you can... Amber light, I guess? I'll wait for you if you need time." Steve downed some more whiskey. "I gotta find a room to rent, move my stuff out. Not that I've got much anyway. Sam said I could stay on their couch--"

"Stay here," Bucky said, his heart hammering. "You can stay with me."

"In that single bed?" Steve started laughing.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "So, we'll get a new bed. We can work something out."

Steve looked at him, a big goofy smile spreading across his face. "You really want me here?"

"Of course I do."

Steve launched forward and hugged Bucky hard, sloshing both their drinks on the couch.

"Steve, watch it, you big lug."

"Won't you get fed up with me?" Steve asked, still hugging onto Bucky.

"I've practically lived with you before," Bucky pointed out. "I already know how annoying you are, Rogers."

Steve laughed, shaking Bucky with it until he grinned too.

"It's just an offer," Bucky told him. "I don't mind if you want to stay somewhere else."

"Let's talk when we're sober," Steve mumbled, settling in against Bucky like he was a pillow. "I love you, Buck. I'm so happy right now."

Bucky held onto Steve, fingers carding through his short hair. "I love you too, Steve."

They started making out on the couch, all slow and sleepy, both of them pretty drunk.

"Let's order a bed!" Steve said excitedly.

Bucky shushed him, worried about waking Clint. "My room-mate is also my landlord. Let me speak to him first."

"Oh, okay," Steve whispered. He leaned in to kiss Bucky again, barely pressed his lips to his before pulling back to ask, "Would you rather live somewhere else?"

"Steve, just let me talk to him first?" Bucky tried not to laugh. "He's moving out himself some time soon, and I don't know what's happening."

"Oh, right. Okay." Steve went to lean in, then squinted at Bucky's face. "Have you got a bruise?"

"Oh... Yeah." Bucky touched his cheek. It was still a bit sore. "There was an incident at work."

Steve's eyes widened. "What incident?"

"There's this resident who gets confused sometimes, he--"

"Shit, did he hit you?"

"Steve, not so loud," Bucky shushed. "Yes, but it's not his fault. He has dementia and it's getting worse. He's never been like this before. I tried to get him out of bed and he just lost it. He's a vet, had a rough run, too."

Steve looked distraught. "I'm so sorry. You should've told me."

"I didn't want to bug you," Bucky mumbled, feeling shy.

"You wouldn't have," Steve insisted. "I want to know these things. I'm sorry that happened to you."

"It's okay." Bucky shrugged.

Well, it wasn't okay. Bucky felt terrible about it.

"I just feel like it's my fault. And now my boss wants to transfer him to another home."

"Why?"

"He said we don't have the set up to take care of patients with dementia," Bucky explained. "But I don't see what the problem is. All we need is more staff at busy periods to cover all the small, easy jobs, which would free up more experienced staff to deal with residents who need more help. And probably have some sort of self defence training, because those guys may be old but they're still pretty strong."

Steve watched him, smiling fondly. "Sounds like you've given this a lot of thought."

"Well..." Bucky shrugged again. "It seems so _obvious_. I don't know why management don't organise this stuff better."

"I don't think any management anywhere is all that great," Steve said. "Just my personal experience."

"Yeah, I guess so."

Steve gently touched Bucky's face. "Sorry you got hurt."

"It's okay. You should feel the lump on my head. Had a concussion too."

"What?" Steve's face went slack with shock. "Bucky, that's awful. There should be safety measures in place, or compensation."

Bucky pulled a face, thoughtful. "Pretty sure the contract waives all that. It's not like I'm feeding velociraptors, Steve. In two years I've worked there and this has never happened to me. Like, maybe one of them will try to swat me, but I can usually avoid it."

Steve was frowning now. "Maybe you need to wear body armour."

"I'll put in the suggestion to management."

"Why don't you give them your other suggestions too?" Steve said.

Bucky thought about that. "I... guess I could?"

 

~ ~ ~  
  
Bucky took a deep breath, holding some sheets of note paper in hand, and knocked on the door.

"Come," Dr Pym called from inside.

Bucky exhaled, then opened the door. "Dr Pym."

"James." Dr Pym looked up from his computer. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

Bucky had woken up early and gotten ready for his early shift, leaving a fast asleep Steve on the couch. He'd even made it in on time, hours before Dr Pym normally came to work.

"What can I do for you?" Dr Pym asked, indicating the chair in front of his desk.

Bucky came in, sat down gratefully. His feet hurt, as normal, but he wasn't as exhausted as he usually was by now.

Just thinking about Steve kept him going.

"I wanted to ask after Logan?" Bucky said. "Scott said you've brought in one of the staff from upstairs?"

"Yes, as a temporary measure," Dr Pym said. "We're all short staffed, but upstairs has slightly more hands than us. Logan really needs a more in depth care package than we can offer right now."

Bucky nodded, and held out his papers. "I have some suggestions for that."

"What's this?" Dr Pym asked, taking the pages.

"These are ideas I have for patient care, and staff duties." Bucky tried not to show he was nervous. "Instead of staff doing _all_ the jobs on shift, I thought getting in part time staff, especially for easier jobs like the canteen and the laundry room, would really free up the rest of us to do room checks, or help residents with any problems they may have that require training to deal with."

Dr Pym raised his eyebrows, and flipped through all the notes Bucky had made last night.

"Like, for example," Bucky went on, "many of the residents have incontinence. They don't even know they need washing and changing after any accidents, and if we don't have a chance to check them regularly, they're sitting there in a mess with no one the wiser."

"I see," Dr Pym said, looking at Bucky over the rim of his glasses. "And when the home can barely afford the staff we're supposed to have, and they go off sick a lot, how does hiring new staff help?"

"I thought, um, sorry for being blunt, Dr Pym, but shift work is real tiring, and it's easy to get run down and catch germs. That's why people go sick, that's why people leave and we have such a high turnover of staff. Instead, you could offer the opportunity to choose either early or late shifts, so people know what they're getting. We out-source the meals, because serving the food just takes forever and it's a real drag on our time."

Dr Pym made a face, clearly conceding Bucky's point. "You make fair comment, and if we had more money to spare..."

"I have suggestions for saving money," Bucky put in.

Dr Pym looked surprised. "Oh?"

"I've made a list of things we use, like the catering, that's costing a lot but not actually worth the money, versus other companies I Googled for their rates and menu options."

Dr Pym looked over the page and hummed. "You've compiled quite a list here."

"It's just things I've noticed over time that I decided to get down on paper and show you, Dr Pym. That incident with Logan?" Bucky made sure he had Pym's full attention before he went on. "I think what aggravates a lot of residents is waiting around for us to get to them, and then being rushed through their routine. If we free up just a little time here and there, residents like Logan will get the extra time they need."

"Ah." Pym set the notes down and leaned back in his chair. "You don't want him to leave."

"I really think that with some adjustments, we could handle his care package," Bucky said firmly.

"You know, James, you shouldn't feel guilty over what happened."

Bucky shrugged. "I don't. And then, I do, because we're not offering the best that we can, and that's largely down to organisation of the staff, and us not having enough time. So if those jobs I mentioned are out-sourced, it would give us more time with the residents."

Dr Pym smiled kindly. "It's nice to see someone who cares about the welfare of the residents. Well, James, all I can promise is to read through your proposal here. I'll let you know if there's anything I can do."

Bucky nodded. "Thank you, Dr Pym." He stood up to leave, and paused at the door. "You're not moving Logan yet, are you?"

"There aren't any rooms available in the homes on my list," Pym said. "If possible, I wanted him to be in a place that comes recommended."

Bucky was relieved. "So, he's staying for now?"

"He's staying for now," Pym confirmed. "I'll let you know if anything changes."

"Thank you," Bucky said, before leaving the office and closing the door.

He stood on the other side and took a fortifying breath.

Okay, that hadn't been so terrifying.

Hopefully Pym would actually read his suggestions, not just ignore them.

Bucky hurried down the hall, toward the lunch rooms. He'd missed out on his break to come and speak with Pym; he was hungry and in dire need of coffee, but it'd been worth it.

 

 

Bucky spent the lunch hour wheeling around the food cart and giving out trays of hot meals to the residents who could leave their rooms.

This was exactly the sort of job Bucky had always thought took forever and could be done by other staff.

On the other hand, he really liked the jobs where he could zone out a bit and just do a repetitive task. The laundry was actually his favorite job.

But it didn't matter, he was trying to help the residents, not himself.

Monty was out of his room, in a wheelchair today because his leg was stiff. He was sat at a table with his usual crew, the other vets, minus Logan.

"Hey, guys," Bucky said, approaching their table. "Ready for your lunch?"

"Same old thing again," Tim Dugan complained.

Bucky set his meal in front of him. He had to admit, the meals did look very lacklustre most of the time. It had to get boring eating them every day.

"I'm starving," Gabe said, as Bucky gave him his food.

"Hungry, Monty?" Bucky asked, which was like giving the older man the perfect opportunity to flirt, but Bucky was feeling cheerful today.

"Always hungry, James," Monty said with a dirty chuckle. "And you know what I mean."

"I think the modern term is thirsty," Bucky said, setting Monty's meal in front of him.

"You don't say?" Monty looked interested. "Well, there you go, my boy. Never too old to learn new things."

Bucky grinned, amused at Monty's chat. "Right, you guys. I'd better go deliver the rest of these."

"We heard about the incident," Dugan interrupted. "With Logan."

"Yes, we were sorry to hear," Monty said. "Had a bad episode, did he? We were worried with you being off work after."

"I'm fine, guys," Bucky waved it off, "just a bump on the head. I've had worse. I feel bad for upsetting Logan though."

Dugan snorted. "He's been sulking in his room since."

"I think his care plan is being adjusted," Bucky said tentatively. "I don't know much more but I'm trying to find out."

"He was a POW," Gabe said. "Prisoner of war. Longer than anyone else I know. He won't talk about it much but maybe if the docs knew more, they could help."

"Thanks, Gabe," Bucky told him. "I'll make sure someone takes that into account."

"James is such a good boy," Monty said to the other two. "Always taking care of us."

Dugan gave Monty side eye, which was pretty funny, and Bucky thought he'd leave while he could.

"Enjoy your lunch, fellas." He wheeled his cart away and finished distributing the lunches.

Which took forever, but Bucky had a few minutes spare before his next rounds started.

He went back to the staff room to check the rota, and see who was where. Then he hurried along the halls to where Logan's room was.

When he got there, the door was open, which was normal for daytimes when people were coming and going a lot.

Bucky approached cautiously, peering in the doorway to check where Logan was first.

He did _not_ want a repeat of being caught by surprise.

Logan was laying in bed, on his side and facing away from the door. No one else was in the room, despite Pym having said earlier that a member of staff was supposed to be with Logan currently.

So much for that, Bucky thought.

He stepped inside the doorway and knocked softly.

"Logan, it's James. Can I come in for a minute?"

Logan grunted mildly, but didn't move. Bucky entered the room, giving the bed a wide birth.

When he came around enough to see Logan's face, he gave him a smile.

"Hey, pal. You okay today?"

"Hn, it's you," Logan grunted, and shifted up into his back. "They said I hit you. That true?"

"Oh. Well..." Bucky took a step closer, confident that Logan seemed more lucid this time. "Unfortunately, yes. You got the drop on me. But I'm fine, nothing to worry about."

Logan frowned thoughtfully, clearly looking Bucky over like he wanted to check for himself.

"They said you were home with a concussion for two days."

"Uh, yeah. But I'm fine, really."

"You're lucky I'm old, kid," Logan huffed. "If I were younger I could've killed you."

"Okay, uh, good to know," Bucky said, feeling awkward. "Anyway, I just came by to check you're doing okay."

Logan shifted on his mound of pillows, looking grumpy and fed up. "They should just lock me up again. Easier for everyone."

Bucky felt bad for him. "No one wants to do that, pal. I'm sorry I did whatever I did that day. If you tell me what you don't like, I'll do my best to make sure I don't do that again."

"What I don't like?" Logan scoffed. "The list's as long as my arm."

"Okay." Bucky got out his cell phone and opened a note taking app. "Tell me your list, and I'll write it down."

 

~ ~ ~

 

Bucky went home from work feeling exhausted, but he was hopeful that he'd done something for Logan today.

After listing every single grievance the man had about the home --and there was _a lot_ \-- Bucky had edited the problems to things he could actually address. Like, if Logan's complaint was about the brightness of the room when the lights were on, that could be addressed. If Logan was uncomfortable and in pain from bedsores, then that could also be addressed.

Bucky had pointed out to Logan that he needed to wash more to keep his sore skin clean, but the older man had admitted he had issues with the shower room and running water.

What Gabe had said about being a POW made sense now, and Bucky edited the list to suggest not using the shower room, and doing a sponge bath with a bowl instead, so Logan wouldn't get upset about being washed.

The list was long, and Bucky couldn't believe none of this had been addressed before. But Logan had never really spoken to the staff, so maybe this was the first time it'd come up?

Either way, he'd dropped by Pym's office with a print out of the list before he'd left.

Pym had promised to look into it, and Bucky felt like it was a step in the right direction. If Logan got moved to another home because of him, he'd feel awful.

Bucky got home, dead on his feet, but perked at the sounds and smells of Clint and Steve cooking in the kitchen.

Bucky dumped his bag and coat by the door, and wandered over.

"Hey. Smells good."

"Hey!" Clint raised his arms in welcome. He was dressed in sweats and had probably only just woken up. "Our boy is home!"

Bucky flipped him off, and went up to Steve, who opened an arm and pulled him in for a hug.

"Hey, honey," he murmured at Bucky's neck. "How was work?"

Bucky laughed, and wriggled away, feeling shy in front of Clint. "Exhausting."

"Want a grilled cheese sandwich?" Clint offered.

"Sure," Bucky said, leaning up against the counter. "Hey, did I tell you about me smelling burnt cheese after I got knocked on the head? It was so weird."

Steve looked concerned, but Clint only laughed and said, "There's worse things to smell." He grabbed the tongs and pulled a couple of toasted sandwiches off the grill. "Cut those up for us, couch dude."

Steve dutifully went to cut the sandwiches, while Bucky stifled a laugh.

"His name is Steve," Bucky reminded him.

"And also," Clint pointed the tongs at him with a shit eating grin, "the one who got away!"

Bucky felt all the blood drain away from his face, while Steve looked up quizzically from where he was cutting up the sandwiches.

"Oh yeah," Clint crowed. "I figured it out. Couch dude here told me all about it, how you two were high school sweethearts."

Bucky looked to Steve, who shrugged innocently.

"I didn't say that. I just said we were seeing each other back then, and didn't tell anyone else at the time."

"Uh... right," Bucky said.

Clint grinned happily. "See, Steve, when he got real drunk one time, he got all nostalgic and told me all about his high school love, the one who got away."

"Clint, please stop talking," Bucky said calmly, though he was absolutely mortified. "Please allow me a shred of dignity."

"There'll be no more dignity if he's gonna be living with you," Clint pointed out.

Bucky's mouth dropped open, and he looked between the two of them.

"I just kind of mentioned it," Steve said, sheepish.

"Don't worry, we sorted it all out. Couch dude has ordered you a new bed, so now you'll be _bed dude_." Clint laughed at his own joke. "But please wait to engage in any loud bedroom activity until I've relocated to the farm in six weeks."

"Six weeks?" Bucky was surprised. "That's so soon."

"Yeah, I know. Gotta get my crops started!"

"Is Pietro going with you?" Bucky asked.

"Yeah, maybe Wanda too. Either that or she's taking my room here, because she'll be down a room-mate. I was going to tell you."

"Oh, right." Bucky tried not to look alarmed.

Changes in his living situation were stressful.

"Actually, I think I'm gonna take a quick nap," he mumbled, excusing himself quickly.

It'd been a long day.

Bucky went to his room and shut the door. He undressed and got into pyjamas, and climbed into bed.

He just needed to rest his eyes.

What felt like the blink of an eye later, Bucky woke to the sound of someone knocking gently on the door and coming into the room.

"Buck?" Steve padded across the carpet. "I've made you a sandwich."

"Thanks," Bucky said, groggy. He sat up in bed and took the plate Steve offered. "What time...?" He looked at the clock and winced.

He'd slept two hours, and now he'd have trouble getting an early night like he needed.

"Dammit," he muttered, and bit into his sandwich.

"Clint said to check if you were supposed to be napping or not," Steve said softly. "If you give me your time table or something, I can help? I'll make you dinner, and wake you up, or get out of your hair when you want to sleep."

Bucky smiled, overcome with a swooping, happy feeling.

"Thanks," he said, shifting over to make room for Steve to sit too.

Steve carefully sat next to him, both of them squished up in the single bed.

"Reckon we can fit a new bed in here?" Bucky asked, glancing around his room.

"Maybe if we move your closet over there?" Steve suggested. "I hope you don't mind? I ended up taking a personal day today, and Clint was here. We started talking, and he told me to go ahead and order the bed."

"No, I don't mind," Bucky said, finishing his sandwich and setting the plate aside. "We can't fit in this bed."

"Not really." Steve grinned slyly. "It's kinda fun trying to though."

Bucky laughed at that. "Are you propositioning me?"

"Yeah, I am." Steve got on top of Bucky, pressing him into the mattress. Bucky laughed happily, hands on Steve's waist as Steve leaned down to press a kiss to his mouth.

Bucky kissed back, and they started making out slow and unhurried. Bucky pushed his tongue past Steve's lips to deepen the kiss, and Steve rolled his hips into Bucky's, grinding into him.

Bucky's cock was very into this, and the make-out session got hot and heavy pretty fast. He hung onto Steve and pushed his hips up to meet him.

Steve broke the kiss enough to gasp, "You wanna...?"

"Yeah," Bucky gasped back, and went to shove his pyjama bottoms down.

Steve leaned up on his arm, undid his fly and pushed his jeans down his hips, his erection bouncing free. Then he got back on top of Bucky and started grinding again, his bare cock sliding in against Bucky's.

Bucky moaned, tugging on Steve's shirt. Steve bent his head and started sucking on Bucky's neck. "Uh, fuck," he gasped, thrusting his cock against Steve's.

The slide of skin was silky smooth, the tips of their cocks both a little wet. Steve had Bucky caged in with his big arms and when he picked up the pace to thrust faster, Bucky felt his body tense as the familiar burn spread out inside him.

"I'm close," he whispered, turning his head to catch Steve's mouth.

Steve kissed him hungrily, thrusting his hips fast. Bucky came first, groaning, and spilling hot between them.

Steve was gasping frantically, and he came soon after with a muffled groan in Bucky's neck. "I love you," he whispered, pressing a kiss to Bucky's skin.

Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve, holding him close.

"Love you, too."

"Imagine what we could do in a double bed," Steve teased, making Bucky laugh.

 

~ ~ ~

 

The rest of the week went by in a flash. Usually Bucky hated the first few days after new year. It still felt _Christmassy_ everywhere, and everyone he knew was either busy with their own lives, or away.

Clint was picking up extra shifts in order to save money, so he wasn't around much.

Normally Bucky would've come home from his early shift in the afternoon, bone tired and lonely, and just sat on the couch watching mindless television by himself until he went to sleep again.

But Steve spent the week with him, and usually he was back by late afternoon, in time for them to eat together.

Bucky kind of got the feeling Steve was rushing home early to see him before he went to bed, but he was totally fine with that.

He'd thought it would feel overwhelming at first, to have Steve move in so fast, but it was nice.

It was more than nice, it was exciting and Bucky found himself smiling more.

Steve had gotten them a double bed, and rearranged Bucky's room a bit so it would all fit. It was a tight squeeze, but it was worth it to feel Steve climb carefully into the bed when Bucky was already asleep, and very gently spoon up against him.

Bucky couldn't wait until he had some time off so they could lay in bed together in the morning and fool around.

It was Friday, and today was Bucky's last early shift. Tomorrow he was on a late, and he'd get to spend some of his day with Steve.

"You seem more cheerful, James," Monty commented, as Bucky got him dressed for the morning.

It was nearly nine AM, and Bucky had been at work for four hours already.

"Yeah," he said honestly. "Been a good week."

"That clonk on the head do it? Or is there another reason?" Monty smiled knowingly.

Bucky felt his face heat up, but he tried to remain professional. "I didn't want to say anything just yet, but I'm kinda seeing someone."

"Well, it's about time!" Monty exclaimed, as Bucky buttoned up his shirt. "Who is it?"

"Uh, actually you saw him in the lunch hall that time," Bucky admitted. "The tall blond."

"Oh." Monty seemed impressed. "Richard Gere. Yes, I remember."

Bucky laughed. "He hardly looks like Richard Gere, but okay. That can be our codename for him."

"He was married, wasn't he?"

"No." Bucky cleared his throat, and reached for Monty's cardigan next. "He was engaged. He's called it off."

Monty's eyes went wide. "Goodness. That is something."

"Yeah," Bucky said softly.

He still couldn't quite believe it.

"Come on, pal. Let's get these clothes on." He finished dressing Monty, and started to tidy up the room.

"When did he call it off?" Monty asked, as Bucky folded the pyjamas.

"Um... at the weekend, I think. A few days ago."

"I say," Monty whistled. "And he came and told you that, did he?"

"Yeah, he kind of... moved in too." Bucky felt shy confessing this. He liked Monty, and he didn't want the older man to think any less of him.

Monty merely chuckled. "Sounds like you're both seizing the day. That's the spirit! Enjoy life while you can, dear boy."

Bucky exhaled with relief, and smiled back. "Thanks. And we'll try. He's spent a couple evenings this week moving his stuff out of his old place, and one of his friends is storing the boxes for now. I'm mostly staying out of that part of it."

"Sounds like a wise move," Monty agreed. "I really hope it works out for you, James. Make sure he treats you well, or I'll have words."

Bucky grinned. "I'll definitely pass that sentiment along. Okay, pal. You had your breakfast already? Let's do your meds."

Bucky shifted the breakfast cart aside, and got out the blister pack of pills. Once he'd set them out for Monty with a cup of water, and made sure he'd taken them all, he turned on the small TV set and got ready to leave.

"Okay, I gotta run. I'll see you for lunch in a couple hours. If you're not up for the walk, someone will bring you in a chair."

"I'll be waiting eagerly," Monty said with a chuckle. "Look after yourself, James."

"You, too. Later, Monty."

Bucky was due to go on his break, but for the third time that week he went to Logan's room first.

Despite Bucky's numerous suggestions to management, nothing had changed as yet. Barely four days, but Bucky had felt impatient and didn't wait for management to get around to implementing any changes. He'd taken it upon himself to make the changes, minor as they seemed but would make a huge difference to Logan.

Yesterday, Bucky had taken the shower hose off the shower stall --it was a simple screw fitting-- and stuck some hazard sticky tape around the shower dial, so none of the staff would use it.

He'd sourced a bowl and more sponges, which would be suitable for a sponge bath, if Logan would actually agree to have one.

Bucky had also bought light-bulbs with his own money, and today he quickly fitted them into the lamps in Logan's room.

It would take management forever to get around to these jobs, and Bucky wanted to help Logan _now_ , while he was still here. He'd done his best to address every issue Logan had, and hopefully it would help.

Bucky was still a bit cautious around him. He tried to move slower and chat less, so he wasn't annoying or surprising Logan too much.

Today he was in luck, as Logan agreed to get out of bed and eat his breakfast without any drama.

He even took his meds.

Bucky knew that asking if he wanted a sponge down was probably too much, and of course he declined, but not before eyeing the bowl and sponge carefully.

"What's those then?" he gruffed.

"For washing," Bucky said. "I can bring a chair in and give you a wash from this bowl. No need to use the shower."

Logan seemed thoughtful, and Bucky hoped that the older man was at least considering it.

"You want to get dressed today?" Bucky asked him, as he tidied away the breakfast cart.

Logan agreed to get dressed, which was also a minor miracle.

Bucky was very gentle, as Logan's skin looked sore in places. He was able to sneak some cream onto the worst affected areas, and get Logan into clean clothes.

That was better than nothing.

Maybe he could suggest some mandatory walking during the day, which would take the pressure off those sore spots a bit.

In the summer, the residents like to get out in the garden and have a little stroll. In winter, it was just far too cold for them. A stiff breeze would blow most of them over.

Dressed and ready to go, Logan tried to get up without his walking frame, but Bucky placed it in front of him.

"This'll help," Bucky told him.

Logan grumbled under his breath, but he used it to stand upright.

"I meant to say," he said gruffly, "I'm sorry for what happened. I didn't mean to hit you."

"Hey, it's okay," Bucky told him. "And thanks, pal. I appreciate that."

They shared a look, and Logan seemed very lucid all of a sudden. "You're one of the good ones," he stated, then nodded like he'd said his piece and that was that.

He pushed off on his frame and shuffled away.

Bucky smiled, touched, and followed along just behind him.

 

  
Logan seemed content to sit in the lounge area by himself until lunch. Bucky was rushed trying to get everything ready and get residents into the lunch hall, but that was normal. He made time to go and check on Logan, and ask if he wanted to visit the lunch hall today.

"Your pals are wondering where you are," he added.

Logan snorted at that, but Bucky saw the twitch of lips that was almost a smile.

Logan got up stiffly and pushed his frame along the hall, toward the room where the lunches were served.

Bucky had already deposited Monty by a table in his wheelchair, and Gabe and Dugan were sitting with him.

"Hey, guys," Bucky greeted as they approached.

He tried not to say anything else, just in case Logan didn't actually want to sit with them. He was contrary like that.

The other vets looked up in surprise.

"Morning, Logan," Gabe greeted, closely followed by Monty who said, "Good to see you, old chap."

Dugan grinned wide. "Well, look who it is! You need a haircut."

Logan frowned and didn't reply, just focused on getting into a seat.

Bucky hovered, but let him do most of the work. It was good for them to stay independent.

"Everyone ready for their lunch?" he asked, trying to move the conversation off of Logan. "Think you got some nice roast dinners today."

"You wouldn't say they were nice if you'd tried them," Gabe said with a laugh.

"Oh, really," Bucky replied, trying to keep a straight face. "I can bring you some condiments over? Spice things up a little."

"Spice isn't worth the risk at our age, James," Monty told him.

"Speak for yourself, bub," Logan said, which surprised all of them.

"I'll get some ketchup or something," Bucky said, feeling pleased. "Some sauces are mild, so they'll be okay."

"Ketchup on a roast dinner! Whatever next?" Monty scoffed as Bucky walked away.

He shook his head, smiling as he headed over to the canteen.

Most of the residents were being brought into the lunch hall and getting settled in at tables.

Visiting hours were set for after lunch, when there was a lull in activity. Which was why Bucky was a bit confused to see a non staff member lurking around the hall. She was dressed in a winter coat and boots, with long, sandy blonde hair.

She'd probably come to see a resident, Bucky figured. Occasionally the home allowed guests to visit a little early.

She seemed to be waiting around, and she kept looking over at him.

"Can I help you?" Bucky asked her.

She stared at him a moment before shaking her head no. Then she turned around and headed back down the hallway.

Bucky left her to it. Maybe she'd meant to go upstairs. Bucky recognised most visitors for his floor, and he was sure he'd never seen her before.

 

 

At the end of his shift, Bucky was so ready to go home.

That was all his earlies done now, after this he had some lates to do, then some time off.

At last.

And Bucky couldn't wait to get home to see Steve. He thought about whether he'd take a nap first so he could stay up late with Steve for once. Clint would be working, so they'd have the place to themselves.

In the cramped staff room, Bucky tossed his tunic into the hamper for washing, and pulled his own clothes on over his under-shirt.

Peter was getting changed next to him, chatting away about some date he was going on at the weekend.

Scott wasn't around, but Luis came into the room.

"Man, I need a beer," he groaned.

"Wanna go get one?" Peter asked.

Luis shook his head, unbuttoning his tunic. "Can't, man. My friend Kurt called from downtown. Needs bailing out."

Peter and Bucky both paused getting dressed to look at Luis.

"Ouch," Peter said. "Hey, if I need bailing out, can I call you?"

Luis raised an eyebrow at him, and Bucky said, "Why, Peter? What're you planning?"

Peter shrugged. "Just setting up contingencies."

"Oh, hey," Luis said to Bucky, "did that hot blonde find you okay?"

Bucky blinked at him. He didn't want to say the image that came to mind was Steve.

"Uh... who?"

"Blonde lady, real classy," Luis said. "She asked for you at reception and I sent her to the lunch hall."

"Oh..." Bucky frowned in confusion. "Yeah I think someone was there. She didn't say much though. What did she want?"

Luis shrugged. "Didn't say, man."

Bucky opened his mouth to remind Luis that letting in just any old person off the street wasn't exactly what a secure home should be doing, but he was tired and he'd just add it to his never ending list of things to suggest to management.

"Okay, thanks." Bucky grabbed his hat and winter coat. "See you tomorrow if anyone's on. Later."

He exited the staff room, pulled on his hat and gloves, buttoning his coat up as he walked down the hall. He looked at the reception desk as he reached the front doors, but no one was there.

This place really needed more staff, he thought, buzzing himself out the glass doors.

It was a dark and gray day outside with a chill wind. But at least it wasn't raining or snowing.

Bucky was all set to hurry down the block to go get his train, when he noticed someone on the sidewalk ahead of him.

He figured it was someone coming toward the home, so he went to step aside.

The other person stopped just in front of him, and Bucky looked up, realising it was that same young woman.

She looked at him, and took a deep breath. "James Barnes?" she asked.

Bucky was confused. Maybe she'd been told to come find him on behalf of a resident, or something?

"Yes?"

He waited for her to say something, but she was just staring at him again.

This was starting to feel weird.

"Uh, and you are...?"

She exhaled with a huff, like this amused her. "I'm Sharon," she said calmly. "Steve's fiancée."

 

 

If there was one thing Bucky hadn't expected from today, it was sitting in a coffee shop with Steve's now ex-partner.

Adrenaline pumped through him, keeping him alert and making him sweat a little in his thick winter clothes.

He'd taken his coat and hat off when they'd sat down. Sharon had a chai latte, while Bucky had a bottle of cold water.

His throat was very dry.

Sharon kept looking at him, like he was a puzzle she was trying to figure out.

Bucky didn't know what to do. He wanted to text Steve, but he was fairly sure he could handle this on his own.

He figured he had this coming, anyway.

He waited for her to speak first, and after what felt like the longest time ever, she finally said, "You're not what I expected."

Bucky didn't know how to answer that... not _politely_ anyway.

She wasn't what he'd expected either. Sharon looked fresh faced and natural, he would've said a little plain, if he'd felt mean. He couldn't place her age easily, maybe late twenties or early thirties. Her clothes and her haircut all looked expensive, and those little details were what unnerved Bucky the most.

Here he was, sitting opposite someone who would look perfect on Steve's arm going through life.

 _Straight_ life, but still.

And he was, a shaggy haired, overweight _nobody_ , with no money and nothing to show for his nearly thirty-five years being alive.

His hand shook a little as he lifted the water bottle to take a drink.

"So," she said with a sigh, finger tracing the edge of her latte. "What did Steve tell you?"

Bucky frowned a little. "What do you mean?"

She gave him an assessing look, one Bucky recognised as trying to rattle him.

He made himself stay calm, put on his best poker face, and fell back on his tried and tested rule of give as little information as possible.

She broke first, and looked away with a mild huff. "Did he tell you he needed a break? A fling?"

Bucky blinked in surprise, but tried to school his features.

_A fling?_

She was waiting for his response, so Bucky shrugged. "I don't know."

"Well, what exactly did he tell you?" she demanded. "What's gotten into him?"

Bucky was starting to feel annoyed.

"I'm pretty sure that Steve said he _doesn't_ want to get married," he said.

There, he'd put that out there.

Sharon stared at him, her eyes flat. "That's what he told you?"

"Pretty much."

Bucky wasn't sure whether to add an apology onto that, but... He wasn't sure why she'd sought him out yet. He wasn't about to admit to sleeping with her fiancé when they'd still been together. She may not know the whole story yet, and he didn't want to be the one to tell her.

"And I suppose he told you he's staying with his gay friends now?" Sharon bit out.

Bucky made himself breathe in steadily. "Pretty much," he repeated.

"That's all you've got to say?" Sharon looked him up and down. "I know who you are, and I know what you've done. I knew there was someone else, I knew he was messaging someone secretly all the time, but I never thought for one second..."

She shook her head. "I can't marry someone like him. My parents are too conservative for this bullshit. I just wish he'd told me."

Bucky conceded that with a bow of his head. "Yeah," he said quietly.

Yeah, that would've been better.

He started to feel bad again.

"You and him," she began, and Bucky looked up. "My cousin, Peggy. She knows who you are. She said in college she'd always felt like Steve wasn't that interested in her. I'd always thought she just hadn't tried hard enough. Now I know. It's not me at all, it's because of _you_."

Bucky was about to argue, to defend himself. How could it all be his fault? He hadn't even seen Steve for over ten years, and he certainly hadn't known he was getting married until Steve had told his best man to invite him to the bachelor party.

It wasn't like Bucky had expected anything to happen, he thought Steve was living the straight life.

But... He supposed he hadn't exactly told Steve _no_ , either.

He'd still cared for Steve, still carried that torch high. Clint had been right, Steve was his one who'd gotten away.

"I don't know what to say," he told her. "I'm sorry. It just sort of... happened."

"Save it," she muttered. "If Steve wants to have an early mid life crisis, you're welcome to it. If I'm honest, he's been distancing himself from me and my family for some time now. Sometimes I wonder if the only reason we got together was because his mom died, and I was just there at the time."

She looked down at her purse, fiddling with the strap in her hands.

The leather looked expensive.

Bucky didn't know what to do. He felt like a jerk but he also wanted to make things right somehow.

"Maybe he's got a lot to work through," he offered, trying to be tactful.

Sharon only snorted lightly, and shot him a filthy look. "Like trying out being gay? I suppose you offered to help him with that, didn't you?"

"He said he's bi."

"What's the difference if he wants to be with another man?" She got to her feet and slipped her bag over her shoulder. "I hope it works out for you. I've no idea what sort of person you are, other than a home-wrecker, but Steve is a good person. Don't mess him up even more."

She turned on her heel and marched out of the coffee shop.

Bucky felt his face burning, but he was rooted to his chair. He had to remind himself to breathe.

After a tense moment of just breathing in and out, he reached for his bottle of water. He noticed the couple on the table next to him watching, then hurriedly look at their phones instead.

Bucky felt even more embarrassed. He gathered his belongings together and left the coffee shop.

It was still daylight, just barely.

Bucky felt wired, full of nervous energy. His good mood thoroughly dashed, he went to text Steve before he remembered he had a late lecture today.

Bucky sighed. He should've gone for that beer with Peter.

He walked to the train, trying to think of what to do. Buy some beers and drink them at home until Steve got back?

Probably his best shot. Bucky didn't want to text Steve at work and make him worry.

He got on his train, and as he stared out the window, he got the idea to message Riley. He'd said he wanted to be a friend, and Bucky really needed a friend right now.

He opened up the messenger app and wrote, _Help. I feel so bad rn._

Then he stared at his phone screen until Riley replied.

 

Riley Johnson

Oh noooo honey what's wrong??

 

Riley Johnson

Just got home a couple hours ago btw. Want brunch? Or, dinner?? My time zones are all over the place!

 

James Barnes

Welcome back! I'm just headed home after an early shift. Working solid until next week :(

 

Riley Johnson

Okay, gorgeous. So what's up? Sam tells me Steve moved into yours? I missed out on having the blond beefcake on my couch!

 

James Barnes

Lol yes he's staying with me.

 

James Barnes

Sharon just came to see me at my work. How does she even know where I work???

 

Riley Johnson

Omg! Shit is going down! Why is it always when I'm away! damn

 

Riley Johnson

Well she does work for the government, babe. Don't trust anyone who works for the government.

 

James Barnes

Wtf?? What does she do?

 

Riley Johnson

Something very boring bc I never remember what. Don't worry about it, Sam said it all seemed pretty amicable when he went round there with Steve yesterday.

 

James Barnes

Amicable?? Why did she come to see me then?

 

James Barnes

She made some weird comments about bi and gay people. She seemed mad.

 

Riley Johnson

She's a republican, why is anyone surprised? Seriously babe, ignore her. This is Steve's problem and he should deal with it, not you.

 

James Barnes

She said it's all my fault

 

Riley Johnson

Babe, look. It's much easier to blame someone outside a relationship than it is to look inward and realise the relationship was fucked anyway

 

Riley Johnson

Or NOT fucked, that's probably why she's all mad. Imagine losing out on such a beefcake! I'd come after you with a rolling pin if it were me, JSYK ;p

 

James Barnes

You're not helping

 

Riley Johnson

I'm telling you, it'll be fine. Get a restraining order or something and she'll keep away.

 

James Barnes

That sounds serious

 

Riley Johnson

It's really common, people get them all the time. My friend is a lawyer and he's cute too. Want me to introduce you?

 

James Barnes

I really can't afford a lawyer, Riley

 

Riley Johnson

He'll talk to you for free, he owes me a favour. I'll invite him to brunch when we eventually go.

 

Riley

We got you, babe. Don't panic :)

 

James Barnes.

Do you really think I need a lawyer?

 

Riley Johnson

Talk to Steve first. Honestly I don't think you'll see her again. She'll get it out of her system and then she'll have other stuff to deal with. Or she can talk to Steve. It's not your problem

 

James Barnes

Okay

 

James Barnes

Thanks for talking to me btw

 

Riley

My pleasure ;)

 

Riley Johnson

Just ignore anything mean she said. She's likely in an angry place but eventually she'll realise that marrying a closeted guy wouldn't have made anyone happy, least of all her.

 

James Barnes

I don't think Steve is closeted tho?

 

Riley Johnson

Well sure, not NOW! lmao

 

Riley Johnson

One wave of your dick, and he came running out of the closet waving a rainbow flag

 

James Barnes

...

 

James Barnes

That did not happen, okay

 

Riley Johnson

;-p

 

James Barnes

Just shut up

 

Riley Johnson

Anyway, have I made you feel better?? Has uncle Riley saved the day?

 

James Barnes

Yes, you did :-)  


~ ~ ~

 

Bucky took a nap when he got home. It was Friday, and Steve wouldn't be working tomorrow so they could both stay up, and sleep in Saturday morning. Bucky wouldn't be headed into work until the afternoon.

He managed to sleep a couple hours, but dreamed of facing down angry blonde women. Bucky woke feeling anxious, and got up, pulling on his dressing gown over his pyjamas.

Steve was on the couch when Bucky wandered in, and he set his phone down as soon as he noticed Bucky.

"Hey," Steve said softly, getting to his feet. "You hungry? I can heat up your dinner?"

Bucky couldn't help smiling, and he nodded. "Yeah, I'm starved. Thanks."

Steve went to the kitchen, while Bucky sat on the couch and yawned. He noticed the TV was on mute with the subtitles. Steve was being a considerate room-mate while Bucky slept.

The _ping_ from the microwave sounded, then Steve was bringing over a full plate of dinner and a fork.

"Wow," Bucky muttered as he took the plate. "Smells great."

Almost every night this week Steve had been making proper meals. Tonight it was chicken, potatoes, cooked veggies and some sort of coleslaw on the side.

"There's more potatoes if you want," Steve said, sitting down next to him.

"You eaten already?" Bucky guessed.

"Yeah." Steve smiled at him. "I was thinking about making a pie later. Clint keeps telling me he likes pie."

Bucky laughed, spearing some chicken on his fork. "Clint likes everything. He gone to work?"

"Yeah, about an hour ago."

Bucky ate his meal, and watched the TV with Steve. Some documentary on art restoration, or something.

"You can put the sound on now," Bucky pointed out.

"Oh, yeah." Steve picked up the remote and un-muted the TV.

"I'm sorry you gotta be quiet all the time," Bucky told him, finishing off his food.

"After dealing with students all day, I kinda like it." Steve grinned at him, and offered to take Bucky's finished plate away. "I noticed beers in the refrigerator..."

"Yeah, they're mine. You wanna drink them?"

"I won't say no." Steve went to the kitchen and cleaned up, as Bucky relaxed on the couch and felt spoiled.

Steve brought two cold beers back to the couch, and handed one to Bucky.

"Thanks." He smiled at Steve as he sat back down, closer this time and pressing into Bucky's side.

Bucky leaned against him and just enjoyed being in Steve's company.

"Thank you for making me dinner this week," Bucky said.

"I enjoy it." Steve lifted an arm and pulled Bucky in close. "I'm glad you like what I make."

"It's amazing," Bucky sighed happily, still full of food. "I'll miss your cooking when I'm on lates."

"Have you got a microwave at work?"

"Yeah, but I usually just take a sandwich in."

"I can make you something?" Steve offered. "I'm not really doing much tomorrow aside from unpacking. Sam said he would hang onto my other boxes for now."

"Um... okay," Bucky said. "I don't mind."

Steve kissed the top of his head, and Bucky closed his eyes to savour the moment.

"I spoke to Riley..." Steve started.

Bucky opened his eyes. "Oh..."

"Yeah."

They moved apart and sat up. Bucky fiddled with his beer bottle, waiting for Steve to speak.

"He said you had an unexpected visitor at work?"

"Uh, yeah." Bucky chewed on his lip, nervous. "We spoke. She... I dunno, I think she just wanted to vent at someone. She didn't seem all that clear about what she wanted to say to me."

"I'm sorry," Steve said with a sigh. "I'm going to talk to her. I agree with Riley, if she wants to talk to anyone, then it should be me. She's got no business bugging you, especially at work."

"How'd she know about me?" Bucky asked.

"Uh, well... I have a suspicion." Steve frowned. "I didn't tell her about you, but when I picked up the last of my stuff yesterday, she wanted to talk and... it just kinda came out. I mean, I came out." He smiled wryly. "I didn't mean to, but she was being pushy, and I tried to explain I didn't want to live with her, and I didn't like her family or her friends. They've all said real homophobic things over the years, and racist too. It was awful, and I was always biting my tongue. Anyway, one thing led to another, and I told her I'm bi."

"Was she mad?" Bucky asked softly.

Steve made a face, like he didn't know. "No, she was... calm. Like she didn't believe me. Maybe she thought it was an excuse, but anyway I left pretty soon after that. Sam was waiting outside with an Uber anyway. I didn't hear anything more until a couple of my friends texted me to say that Sharon had been asking them if they knew my--" He hooked his fingers to indicate quote marks. "-- _big gay secret!_ And I can only presume that somebody, probably Tony, told her about you being at my bachelor party. Because no one else besides Sam and Riley has met you."

"Um..." Bucky winced in anticipation of bringing up another ex, but he may as well say it. "She mentioned Peggy to me today..."

Steve looked at him, face blank as he took that in. Then he nodded slowly. "That makes sense, I guess. They're related, and Peggy is friends with Tony, so... Jeez, I can't believe them."

"Sorry," Bucky said. He felt like the bad guy again.

"What are you saying sorry for?" Steve huffed a laugh. "It's my mess, I'll talk to all of them. I'm mad at Sharon for telling people my business, but I guess she's just angry right now." He sighed, and rubbed a hand down his face. "She's normally really nice, this isn't like her."

"You think she'll be okay?"

"I hope so," Steve said. "I should've done this a long time ago. I just didn't want to deal with the fallout, but now here it is, I guess. And I've made a big mess."

"Hindsight is twenty-twenty," Bucky said.

Steve turned a grin on him. "Gee, thanks, Buck. You're so understanding."

Bucky smiled back, feeling a flush heat his cheeks. "You're welcome."

"Wanna get drunk and forget about everything for a while?" Steve asked.

"Oh, yeah." Bucky raised his bottle to toast to that.

 

~ ~ ~

  
Bucky enjoyed his lay ins with Steve over the weekend, even if he still had to go into work in the afternoons for his late shifts.

Steve had taken over most of the grocery shopping, because apparently he was good at adulting like that. Or maybe it was the not working shifts part that helped, because Bucky was terrible at buying food. It was easier to just give Steve money towards food, and Steve seemed keen to make Bucky's packed lunches every day, arranging all this labelled Tupperware in the refrigerator that Bucky could take and reheat at work.

It was certainly better than the boring sandwiches Bucky would've made for himself.

Usually Luis had the best lunch options on breaks, and Bucky would steal longing looks at whatever he had on the day. Now Bucky was getting looks and questions about _his_ lunch.

"When did you learn to cook, man?" Luis asked him.

"I didn't," Bucky said with a smirk. "My boyfriend cooks."

"Well, that's cheating," Scott said. "Can he make enough to share next time?"

Bucky stifled a laugh. "He does make big portions. It's because he's into protein and going to the gym, and shit like that."

"Scotty goes to the gym," Luis put in. "Don't you Scotty? Gotta impress those ladies."

Scott huffed a laugh. "Um... I try."

"Me, I don't need to pump iron," Luis went on. "I'm good looking, I cook, and I know my culture. Going on a date to a modern art show next weekend."

"Steve likes art," Bucky said, excited to share. "He loves modern art too."

"Sweet, man. Hey, maybe you wanna double date?" Luis suggested. "It's a neo-cubist exhibition and it's really cool. Wait till you see my date, bro, she's really super fine."

"If you text me the details, I'll ask Steve," Bucky said. "Sounds cool."

"Uh, yeah... what about me?" Scott indicated himself. "Don't I get an invite?"

"Have you got a date?" Luis asked him.

"Um... I could... get one?" Scott floundered.

"Yeah? You got somebody lined up?" Luis grinned with amusement. "It's about time, Scotty."

"I've been meaning to ask her." Scott shifted in his chair and kept his eyes on his lunch.

"Just ask already," Bucky said, giving him an encouraging smile. "If she says no, come and be our fourth wheel."

Scott pulled a face, but Luis laughed.

"Yeah, we'll see," Scott said. "I'll be, um, seeing her next week, so I guess I'll ask her then."  


 

Monday rolled around fast, and Bucky had another two late shifts to do before he had some time off.

He figured he'd wait a few days before he bugged Dr Pym again about Logan. Anything management did was always so slow anyway.

Bucky had made a point of checking in on Logan more regularly, making sure the changes he'd made were still in place.

It seemed no one had questioned his changes, and sponge baths were now being done in his bedroom.

Miracles did happen after all.

Logan seemed in a better mood the last few days, and more lucid. Bucky was pleased, and he intended to keep checking on him.

On Tuesday, Bucky was doing solo rounds checking on bed-bound residents, when Angie came to find him.

"Pym wants you," she said, after they'd said hi. "I'm covering your rounds if you give me your tick-sheet."

"Oh?" Bucky tried not to panic, and handed over his tick-sheet of rooms. "Most of these residents like to chat, if they're not watching TV."

"Got it." Angie pocketed the sheet. "Catch you later, Barnes."

Bucky walked briskly down the halls to Dr Pym's office.

His heart was pounding, and he worried that he was about to be told that Logan was being transferred.

Bucky didn't want that.

When he got to Pym's office he knocked on the door.

"Come!" Pym called.

Bucky entered the room, surprised to see Dr Van Dyne sitting there --Pym's partner-- as well as Hope Van Dyne, their daughter.

Seeing two senior managers sitting there with his boss, Bucky felt panic seize him.

He tried to remain calm, but now he worried that _he_ was in trouble.

"James, take a seat," Pym said.

Bucky closed the door behind him and came to sit. All eyes were on him and Bucky's mind jumped to the worst case scenario; he was getting fired.

"Now, then..." Pym began, shuffling some papers on his desk.

Bucky recognised his own hand written notes of suggestions, but not the other printed pages.

"Last week you gave me some feedback," Pym said, "not only for day-to-day management of the home, but also for an individual case."

Bucky swallowed, and said, "Logan?"

"Yes." Pym adjusted his glasses and looked at a print-out sheet. "Seems you already put some of those suggestions in place yourself?"

"I was just trying to help," Bucky tried, but Pym waved his hand.

"They did help. Logan's therapist told me yesterday that he's more relaxed, his mood is better, and apparently that is all down to you and the changes you've made in his room."

Bucky opened his mouth, but he didn't know what to say.

Maybe he wasn't getting fired after all.

"The different light bulbs were a good idea," Dr Van Dyne said. "I'm going to suggest that we tailor the lighting in any bedroom we can. Seeing as the residents spend a lot of time in there and it'll impact their mood."

"I agree," Hope said. "And finding out that the shower was a trigger for Logan will help his routine so much. Thank you for the work you put in."

"Oh, it's..." Bucky looked between the managers, hopeful. "Does this mean he can stay?"

"We've discussed it," Pym said, "and I'm willing to give it another shot. There's no better alternative available for him right now, not on his budget. So we'll do the best we can."

Bucky exhaled in relief. "Has anyone told him?"

"His therapist is with him today," Dr Van Dyne said. "She's going to explain the situation to him. And also remind him that he has to try and vocalise his needs more, not bottle them up. She's going to write a more up to date care plan recommendation this week, and we'll see how that goes once it's in place."

"Thank you," Bucky said gratefully. "I didn't want him to go."

Dr Pym smiled. "Now, James. Moving on... I was interested in your initiative with this case, and also your suggestions. Saving money on our daily running particularly caught my eye."

Bucky willed his face not to flush. Being praised in front of Hope, the manager, was a bit embarrassing. "I was just trying to help," he said again.

"How would you like to put your money where your mouth is?" Pym asked.

Bucky looked up at him. "Excuse me?"

"Manage the floor," Pym said, as if it were obvious. "I'm willing to give you a six month position. If things go well, I'll consider keeping you on as assistant manager. Assuming you'll still want the position, that is."

Hope shot him a smirk, and Bucky didn't understand.

Was Hope leaving?

Pym must have noticed his expression, as he went on, "We're having a bit of a reshuffle. Hope will be going upstairs as the permanent manager, and Scott is joining her as the assistant. I'll remain on this floor, but that leaves me without my own assistant." He picked up another sheet of paper and scrutinised it. "I was looking over your resume. You've been a supervisor before?"

"Uh... yeah, in a warehouse."

"You've already shown you're willing and you have the ideas." Pym leaned forward on his desk to look at Bucky. "This position means you can just get on with them. With my approval, of course."

Bucky couldn't believe it. This was... incredible.

"Uh... would this mean working days? Not shifts?"

"For six months, yes," Pym said. "Then we'll review how you did, and discuss your next step. If you don't like it, you can go back to your previous position, that's not a problem."

"Okay." Bucky nodded his head. "And the pay...?"

"Will be salaried as per the position," Pym explained. "Hope can email you the details, and you can let me know your decision by the end of the week."

"I'm very interested," Bucky said eagerly.

"Well, good." Pym gave him a knowing smile. "Bear in mind you'll be working directly with me, too."

"And there's no compensation for that," Dr Van Dyne joked.

"Ha, ha," Pym said, sitting back in his chair. "Okay, so unless you have any other questions right now, Hope will email you everything you need to know, and you can come see me about it by Friday. Yes?"

"Yes," Bucky agreed. "Yes, thank you. Yeah."

He couldn't help grinning to himself as he left the office, saying another thank you before shutting the door.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, then hurried back down the hall to get on with the rest of his shift.

No more shift work for six whole months? A _pay rise?_ An opportunity to actually sort out all the things that bugged him about the management?

Yes, he wanted this.

Bucky got out his phone and sent a text to Steve.

_I got a new job!!!_

 

~ ~ ~

 

 

 _Six months later_  


 

"I don't think I've been anywhere this gay in my entire life," Steve admitted, holding Bucky close.

The nightclub was a wash of rainbow lights, mirror balls, upbeat dance classics.

Bucky tried not to laugh, and wrapped his arms around Steve's waist.

"Bit loud for you?"

"Would it be really sad if I said yes?"

"Nah," Bucky smiled, "I feel the same. We should stick around though, don't want to upset the grooms."

"Oh, I'm fine staying," Steve assured him, "I was just... thinking out loud, I guess?"

"If we get drunk, that might help?" Bucky suggested.

"Yeah, okay. Let's do it."

It was Sam and Riley's wedding night. Steve had been Sam's best man during the day. All the older guests had gone home after the main reception, or to their hotels, as per the plan.

Anyone who came along to the gay club after was, as Riley had specified during his speech, on their own.

Riley was on the dance floor with his husband, both of them dancing to a '70s number with some friends. Steve and Bucky had stayed nearer the bar, looking for a quiet corner so they could get a few moments together.

Bucky bought them their first drinks, some fruity cocktail, and they sipped them while pressing close. Bucky swayed his hips to the beat, smiling at his boyfriend.

"You wanna dance? Maybe they'll play the Spice Girls for you."

Steve laughed at that. "Maybe later. I'm just enjoying having you to myself."

Bucky pressed in closer, rested his head on Steve's shoulder. "Me too," he said.

Steve held onto him, though he joined in with some slow swaying. Bucky would have to coax him onto the dance floor after their next drink.

"I never thought I'd have this," Steve murmured by his ear. "Being out... with you, I mean."

Bucky squeezed him tight. He felt the same. They'd been living together for six months, and it'd been the happiest Bucky had felt for a long time.

After the initial backlash Steve had had post break up, his friends had accepted it and stopped trying to interfere, and Sharon had evidently moved on.

Not that Steve kept in contact. He'd wanted a clean break.

He spent most of his time off with Bucky, since they'd both had evenings and weekends free. Sometimes they saw Sam and Riley, but mostly they enjoyed staying home and being dorks watching movies together.

Wanda now lived in Clint's room, but she was usually round at her girlfriend's place. Clint and Pietro were miles away on the farm Clint was renting for the summer, and until Bucky and Steve could save up enough to rent their own place, it was good for now.

Even if the neighbor had complained a couple times about them having loud sex.

Whatever, Bucky was still happy.

He hugged his boyfriend and swayed with him on the edge of the dance floor. Steve slipped his hands into the back pockets of Bucky's jeans --the nice ones he'd squeezed himself into for the day-- and cupped his ass.

Bucky laughed into the crook of Steve's neck, thrilled at how open they were now. He'd never in his life been with a man who wanted to display affection in public, so this was all new to him.

Riley bounded over when the next song started, insisting they come and dance. "I've requested some songs!" he said excitedly, more than a bit drunk. "Come on, I have to embarrass Sam with terrible dancing."

"Steve is your man for that," Bucky said, pulling Steve by the hand. "Come on, Rogers. Time to spice up your life."

"Just shut up," Steve replied, but he was fighting a smile.

They found Sam on the dance floor with some more of his friends, sharing out Jello shots.

When Mel and Kim started playing over the club's speakers, Steve grabbed Bucky's arm and gave him such an excited look, Bucky burst out laughing.

"Can we do the dance?" Steve pleaded.

"Well, I can," Bucky laughed, "not sure about you."

 

~ ~ ~

 

After a huge hangover that lasted all of Sunday, Bucky barely managed to wake up on Monday and get himself into work.

He had a meeting with Dr Pym, as his six months temporary contract was up.

Bucky was pretty nervous. He thought he'd done okay, considering he'd never actually managed a care home before. A lot of his suggestions had been put into place, but it was early days yet. He still had so many ideas, but he didn't know if Hank would want to keep him on or not.

Steve gave him a reassuring hug before he left, and handed over his packed lunch for the day.

Steve didn't have a lecture until late morning, so he would leave later.

Bucky headed into work, listening to his feel-good playlist to boost his confidence.

He hadn't been sharing the cramped staff room with the care assistants, but instead been working from his own --admittedly tiny-- office, along the hall from Hank.

He didn't spend all day in there, as he went around the floor to check up on things regularly. He still got to say hello to his favorite residents each day, and get feedback and gossip from them.

Bucky got in his office and shed his outdoor clothes. He hadn't been wearing the tunics either, just some boring work shirts and smart looking sweaters that he wasn't so keen on.

Bucky glanced at the framed photo of him and Steve on his desk, taken recently in Central Park. He smiled at it, then headed to Hank's office.

He wanted to get this over with.

Hank seemed in a bit of a rush, and Bucky knew he had meetings to go to today. He wasn't sure if he was assisting Hank or being booted back to his role as care assistant.

He'd brought his under-shirt in his bag, just in case he'd be putting that tunic on again and wiping butts all day.

"Right, James..." Hank peered at his PC screen, probably checking the calendar. "It's been six months."

"Yes, Dr Pym."

Hank huffed a laugh. "I thought I told you to call me Hank. Anyway, how did you find the role?"

Bucky kept his face neutral, but he nodded. "I enjoyed it. I feel like it went by real fast."

"That's better than real slow," Hank joked. "So. Any thoughts about staying on?"

Bucky's heart thudded. "I'd really like to. I still have a lot I want to make better."

Hank nodded. "Well, I'm more than happy to have you stay on. As a permanent position."

Bucky blinked rapidly. "Really?"

"Well, unless you don't want to? But I think you've proved yourself, and done an excellent job so far. You freed up money in our budget which, I'll be honest, I didn't think was possible. So, if like you to stay on, you can show me what else you have planned for this place."

"Yes, sir." Bucky grinned happily. "Thank you, sir."

Hank waved a hand. "You have to call me Hank, though. Only stipulation."

"I can do that," Bucky said. "Thank you, Hank."

"Good. I'll have someone from H.R. send you the new contract and anything else you need by next week. In the meantime, I'd better get to my meetings. I'll leave you in charge as normal."

Bucky smiled. "No problem."

When Hank had left and Bucky had gone back to his own office, the first thing he did was text Steve.

_I'm staying on!!!! :D I'm a manager!_

Steve replied almost instantly with lots of thumbs up emojis and a text.

_Well done, Maverick!! I'm so proud of you xx_

 

 

 

 

 

Bucky's Feelgood Playlist

Chaka Khan – I Feel For You

Annie Lennox – There Must Be An Angel (Playing With My Heart)

J-Lo – Waiting For Tonight

Paula Abdul – Opposites Attract

Britney Spears – Crazy

_Wet Wet Wet – Love Is All Around_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: appearance from Sharon, and a (mild) confrontation.
> 
> ~ ~ ~

**Author's Note:**

> You can listen to [Bucky's full playlist here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLFqUqT-y0xQ3C2qbGbVilOqUCTnJc-b1k).
> 
> ~ 
> 
> Spoiler End Notes:
> 
> Bucky/T'Challa featured as casual sex/FWB in Chapters 1 and 2. And Chapter 3 onwards is Bucky/Steve centric.   
> Sharon appears in chapter 6 (the final chapter) only.
> 
> ~
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Here is a [rebloggable post for this fic on tumblr](https://jro616.tumblr.com/post/168788875965/youre-still-the-one).
> 
> You can leave a comment here or message me on my [tumblr](http://jro616.tumblr.com) or my [twitter](https://twitter.com/jro616).


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